The Pride of This Empire
by Lucy Hale
Summary: COMPLETED! When the war brings unexpected complications, Harry gathers with old friends to solve a problem. The appearance of Severus Snape, presumed dead long ago, is one complication Harry doesn't need. Slash.
1. The Situation

Suburbia. A fitting place for the apocolyptic battle between good and evil.

It was a small house, nondescript. Pale cream siding, a brick chimney, even a child's bicycle in the front yard. It was ironic, Harry thought, and amusing, that it could have fit into the street in Little Whinging. This could have been Privet Drive, and inside could have been upright, priggish, morally superior Muggles who would have laughed at him and his world had they gotten any sign at all that they existed.

Instead the house was sheltering pure Evil.

Ironic, and Harry wondered if Voldemort had dug into his mind at all. Had he scouted Harry's nightmares back in the years when he could still read Harry's thoughts, and pulled out this image as one that still frightened Harry more than most of the magical world?

He smiled to himself as he tightened white knuckles around his wand. The air was thick. He could feel Ron beside him, his nervously tapping leg.

He didn't look at Ron, or Hermione at Ron's other side. He knew what they would be doing. Ron would be practising his wrist movements, mouthing curses as he flicked his wand. As if he were still in school and not an auror with well-deserved fame of his own. Hermione would be still, in direct contrast to her fiance. She would be gazing straight ahead, mentally running through...whatever it was she mentally ran through in times like this. Whatever brilliant people thought of. Harry wasn't sure.

Kingsley and Remus were talking quietly in the front seats, the low, grim tones of pre-battle. Remus wasn't going to fight - it was the day after the full moon and he was too weak. It bothered him, Harry knew, but Remus wasn't in any way selfish for more fighting. He had long ago grown disillusioned with the adrenaline and thrills that young aurors thought they'd find in battle.

Birds chirped outside the confines of the van. It was surreal how normal it all felt. An occasional car would drive by, dogs barked in the distance, and Harry was sure he heard the blare of a television from Number 15, their target.

Was it some sense of his past that brought Voldemort here? After all, he was raised Muggle before Hogwarts. Had he lived in a place like this himself?

"The Prophet," Ron said suddenly, "will be a bit disappointed by this location, you know. We're going to have to fancy it up, pretend it was a dark alley in Knockturn or a clearing in some dank woods in the north, otherwise they might not want to write about it."

Harry heard Hermione's puff of air, her usual disappointed noise when Ron didn't take things as seriously as he should. Harry grinned, glad that this sense of grim amusement wasn't his alone.

"The Prophet just may write about this no matter what," Remus answered, his low voice hoarse from the night before. "But if we're going to embellish let us know beforehand so we all tell the same story. "

"I think we're a little better off if we spend this time preparing, and not making up lies for the papers." The sharpness in Hermione's voice didn't affect Harry - she always got more snappish before something dangerous. But Ron's leg stopped shaking, and he didn't say anything else.

In the glass of the windshield their attention was caught by a small sedan pulling up across from them on the other side of the street.

Kingsley straightened. "It's about bloody time. Bet they had to stop for directions too."

Ron chuckled. "People laughed at my dad, but he would have known how to navigate Muggle streets at least. Most wizards are useless at it."

"Don't know what good it does when we can just apparate any sodding place we want to go," Kingsley muttered.

"Except the places you really need to be, of course. Like here." Ron's voice was innocent.

Kingsley muttered something unintelligible.

Ron snickered, nudging Harry's arm.

Harry glanced over with a smile. His stomach clenched. The fight was near.

"I'll have to figure out how he did that, warding the streets around him against apparation. It isn't the same sort of charm used at Hogwarts." Hermione's voice shook under her cool thoughtfulness.

"Harry? Alright?" Remus glanced back.

Harry nodded, tightening fingers around his wand. It was already slick with sweat.

"Right. Get ready."

The door to the sedan opened and Tonks appeared, bringing along Flint and Patrick. There would be more vehicles around the block, waiting, but they were the few. The first wave.

Doors opened. Harry led the way out of the van, circling around.

Time slowed. The street grew a mile long as they crossed. The chipped beige paint of the front door and shutters at Number 15 filled Harry's head as he looked from one window to the next witing for the sign that they had beeen spotted.

No words were exchanged as they met with Tonks and the others. They reached the manicured lawn and committed the ultimate sin of stepping on the grass. Harry almost expected Petunia Dursley to come out waving knitting needles, shouting at the hooligans to take their dirty feet to someone else's lawn and not the lawn of decent, taxpaying, hardworking, completely _normal _people.

But there was nothing. Not even the shift of a curtain.

The front door was locked, but Tonks walked right through with a charm uttered almost casually. The wards were all in place, just as Pettigrew had described, but Hermione and Kingsley muttered on either side, and moments later the wall of magical air dissolved and the group pressed inside two at a time.

The wide eyes of a Death Eater caught utterly off gaurd were the only things Harry noticed before Kingsley had the man prone on the floor. Harry looked around, his mind working on overdrive.

The small hallway leading towards the back of the house, the staircase leading up, the entry into a living room and whatever else awaited...they were all options. But Harry only hesitated for a moment before going up the stairs. A single pair of footsteps padded after him. Ron. Watching his back.

A door to the right opened, and Ron spoke a low curse. Harry kept going, led by his instincts and a little something more to another door, a door without a knob.

He felt another dark, shuddering bit of amusement as he knocked on the door.

It opened, and Pettigrew looked out. The thin, diminished face sagged and he spoke. "Thank you."

Harry raised his wand but hesitated, and simply grasped Pettigrew's arm and pushed him into the hall. He would let Pettigrew's fate be decided by someone else.

His job was just to go into that room, and that was battle enough for him.

Voldemort's voice. A pale form in the shadows. A red glint of eyes.

Harry's life stopped. Time didn't slow or speed; it didn't exist at all. There was just Harry and the man who had shaped too much of his life.

There was no smug talk this time, no exposition or tale-telling. The time for that was over.

He hissed curses and dodged curses. Words were shouted, whispered, growled, two voices merged and two wands emitted flame and death, green and red.

Harry's vision blurred, then flashed red.

Then everything stopped.

Anticlimactic, he would think later. Disappointing in a way that made no sense, since all he had wanted before the fight started was an easy end.

Was it the house on the green lawn, in the middle of a lovely middle-class neighborhood in Birmingham? Was it the lack of resisttance, the smoothness of their actions? Tonks was hurt, but he didn't know that yet. Hermione was knocked out, but healthy enough. Patrick was dead. Ron was in a state of shock, and for days after would at odd times break into marvels at the speed, the reflexes, the strangely synchronistic way Harry and Voldemort had dueled.

But at the moment he didn't think about any of that. He just stood there, not even breathing heavily, and stared at his fallen enemy.

Definitely anticlimactic. But then, suddenly, not.

Suddenly the body on the floor breathed, loudly enough to be heard, and shifted as if fighting the quicksand of sleep.

Voldemort wasn't dead. He was...knocked out.

Ron spoke first, words that encompassed what must have been his entire range of emotions from the day. "Bloody. Fucking. Hell."

Harry tilted his head, lowered his wand, and looked at Voldemort. "Well," he said.

He went to the limp form and prodded with his foot. Ron gasped, but Voldemort was still.

"Well," he said again. He couldn't decide how to feel. "What do we do now?"


	2. Snape

The ghosts of Ireland were nothing like the loud, obnoxious, tangible ghosts Severus Snape had grown accustomed to. The ghosts of Ireland, of this expanse of field and hill and broken, aimless stone walls, were in the fields themselves. In the wind, in the stones of the walls. In the air. In his lungs as he drew in the cold, sharp breath of winter. He could turn in a circle as slowly as he wanted, scan as thoroughly as his keen eyes could, but he wouldn't see another living soul. That didn't stop him from realizing that people were there.

Seamus had explained it to him once, a sort of bedtime story. "When people die, they aren't given a choice. They vanish entirely or they return as ghosts. The ones at Hogwarts are stuck there because...well. I don't know why. I never understood any of that. But these ghosts I understand. I understand Ireland. This country...they died for this country. They died out of starving for not wanting to leave. Through famine and war they stayed and worked and died. This is all they ever had, and all they cared for."

Snape interrupted then and said something snide about the 800-years-of-oppression lecture he was afraid this was becoming.

Seamus smiled and fell quiet.

But the child was right. The air reaked of history. The random stone walls that interrupted the stretches of green going up and down the hills were testament to the famine and hopelessness that these people had known. Every inch of this turf was haunted, but not with malevolence. They haunted because they couldn't stand to leave. They were linked. They were home. Where could they find a better heaven than this?

That sort of peace was something he had never known himself. It was a good bit of the reason why he was close to being content here.

The rest of the reason was brought to mind by the soft padding of bare feet in grass behind him. Seamus was still a distance away, but sound carried in the silence there in a way Snape had only ever experienced before when locked in his laboratories, listening for the shift of vapors that meant a potion was ready to turn.

"Severus." The voice, thick with Ireland itself, came from a distance. Seamus knew better than to ever approach Snape without making his presence known: the instincts of a Death Eater weren't pleasant, for Death Eater or victim alike.

Snape glanced back just to note he had heard.

Moments later Seamus was a presence at his side. Silence fell again, and for a long time they stood. Snape breathed in and out through his mouth, letting himself enjoy the awakening sensation of ice cold air in his lungs.

"You've made a decision?"

Snape made a low noise of response.

"Good."

A hand, warn and light, appeared at Snape's back, and slid slowly around his waist. Pressure against his side as Seamus pulled himself close. Warmth blocking the wind from that side. The novelty of it all was still something Snape had trouble with.

Seamus didn't press him. Snape would tell him when he was ready, and Seamus was content with that.

He turned to look down at the boy. His hand moved of its own volition and took a proprietary place on Seamus's shoulder. The boy smelled of grass, faintly of sweat. His hair was disheveled even more than usual in the cold wind. His face was relaxed and peaceful as he gazed out at the land.

Eventually, when Snape didn't avert his gaze, Seamus looked to him. Eyes a color green that could have been pulled from the grass itself met his, and a smile softened his features even more. "You made the right choice," he said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Don't you want to know what the choice is first?"

Seamus smiled and pulled himself closer. "Believe it or not, I've rather grown to trust you."

Snape snorted. "Foolish."

"Always."

"I'm going."

"I thought as much." Those odd green eyes seemed to dig into Snape with the quiet, unassuming concern that almost hid the amount of intensity behind that concern. "You're feeling better?"

Snape shrugged. His arm throbbed under his sleeve.

"How long ago...?"

"Less than two hours." The taste was still in his mouth.

Seamus nodded, satisfied.

"And yours?"

"Minutes ago. I found the goblet by the fire." A tired smile. "Thanks." And as Snape knew he would he changed the subject. "I expect we'll go soon. Tonight? Or tomorrow?" Seamus drew in a breath and looked out at the horizon. "I'll miss this. "

Snape didn't bother to agree. They both knew how he felt. "Whatever decision is reached should take days at the most. They were idiots for bringing him in alive. The boy should have killed him when he had the chance. A trait he shares with the Dark Lord himself."

Ego, Snape knew. The Dark Lord never killed Potter because he was too busy bragging about his plans. Potter had brought the Dark Lord in alive no doubt to gloat over being the victor. But while the Dark Lord lived there was no victor, and damn Potter for not having realized that.

Damn them all, really. Just like old times.

He sighed. "Days. I will give them a matter of days. Of course should they prove themselves unwilling to listen, as they always were, it may be less."

"They'll listen." Seamus spoke with the faith of one who had no idea. "Why shouldn't they? You know more than they ever will about this."

"That's logic," Snape said. "If they operated on logic more than feelings, I might never have left in the first place."

"Then I'm very glad they're illogical beasts."

A laugh emerged, notable in its lack of sarcastic bite. Snape squeezed at the shoulder beneath his hand.

Seamus looked up at him. His expression was utterly open. Snape doubted Seamus could lie if he tried, but he also doubted the idea of trying ever really occured to the child.

"It will be nice to see Hogwarts again." Seamus hesitated, proving Snape's thoughts right by displaying every emotion that ran through him as he spoke. The splash of regret about what might have been, the uncertainty, even a touch of resentment. All which Snape understood clearly.

"One week," Snape said. "Then we'll be back."

Seamus smiled. He didn't believe it.

Snape wasn't sure he did, either.


	3. Surprises

"Do you suppose he'll show?" Ron sat down beside Harry, grinning in greeting before diving back into his original point. "Snape, I mean. Do you really think he's still alive?"

"Dumbledore sent the owl," Harry answered, nodding up to the front of the office.

Albus was in talks with Minerva and Remus, low-voiced but without the tension that had marked every conversation for the last few weeks. The office seemed bigger somehow - it was easier to breathe, and Harry's mild and annoying claustrophobia didn't even spark.

War had been fought and won; years had passed since Harry's first time in this office. But, despite it all, nothing had changed. Albus seemed older, but at the same time he seemed less weighed down than Harry had ever seen him. Minerva too was quicker to smile suddenly.

"You don't think he's just hoping?"

Harry shook his head. "Snape's alive. I know he is."

"Where did this sudden confidence come from?"

Harry shrugged. He believed his old teacher and the bane of his existence was alive because to believe he was dead and wouldn't come back to witness Harry's triumph was too disappointing to contemplate. Because he wanted to be able to look into those black, hateful eyes and feel victory instead of intimidation. Because he had won this war and Severus Snape had run away.

The door opened, and every eye turned to see - Harry wasn't the only one curious about the missing member of their Order.

Hermione came in, and eyes averted and voices went back to their conversations. She smiled at them as she approached. "No word yet, but if wizards and witches on the street have any vote, he'll be killed today."

"Unfortunately, they don't." Ron slumped in his chair, his spine vanishing with the odd ease of the truly tall. "Not while Fudge is in charge."

"He's gotten better," Hermione argued instantly.

Ron shrugged, looking at his hands.

More arrivals began coming in - Percy Weasley, whose presence still made Ron tense. Tonks, who made him relax again. Kingsley, Mad Eye, Dung. Some new recruits Harry hadn't met formally yet. He watched them come in and shake grave, formal hands with the beaming Albus.

Seats appeared with every new arrival - the inherent magical hospitality of the headmaster's office. Hogwarts, like Albus, was never-changing in the oddest ways.

"Right. I suppose we're most of us here, aren't we?" Albus stood, drawing attention from everyone. "We'll have some late arrivals, but the sooner we get everyone out of here and off to a night of celebration, the better."

"I think there've been quite enough nights of celebration already," Minerva muttered as she followed Albus around to the front of the desk.

The Order took their seats, waiting dutifully.

"Told you he was dead," Ron whispered.

Harry just shook his head. Snape wasn't dead. Albus knew everything, especially the things he couldn't know. He would never have sent Snape an owl if he was dead. Simple as that.

Albus's gaze fell on them for a moment, and his mouth turned up beneath his beard. He cleared his throat and swept his eyes over the room. "Needless to say, good work."

Cheers met that, Ron loudest of all. Harry shot Remus a look, hearing his quieter, more solemn response. Remus had warred with this for years more than he and his friends, and had lost even more than Harry, really. The glow in his eyes was nice to see.

"Yes, yes. Very good. Of course, nothing is over until it ends."

"You'll never tire of cryptic wisdom, Albus," came Tonks's response to that.

"It keeps me young," came the answer. "But in this case, it's the truth. The _Prophet _says we've won, but Voldemort has escaped defeat in the past. I hope the Ministry will make the right choice and have him executed, but even when the choice is made we're not done. Draco Malfoy is free, Lestrange and his brother. They were unstable enough with the death of Bellatrix. Without Voldemort to keep them in check they will only be worse. They needed the control he brought. They have to be stopped."

His eyes locked on Harry. "Voldemort as well. Captured and warded is not dead. Like as not, the Ministry will not have the resources to kill him. That will fall to us as well."

"Get 'im, Harry!" Dung always managed to sound drunk, even if he wasn't.

Harry frowned.

"It's alright. They'll manage it without you." Ron spoke at his side, low enough that even Hermione didn't hear.

Harry wasn't so sure.

"There is also the matter, long overdue, of properly honoring our fallen. Hagrid was the latest, but there have been others not properly mourned. They need to be celebrated, and their families and friends need to know why they were killed. Their place with us doesn't need to stay secret any longer, and so it shouldn't."

No cheer or snappy answer filled the silence.

But the mood was properly somber to greet the opening of the door. Not a knock was given as warning, and a tall figure strode in, black robes billowing behind him.

"Headmaster."

If not for the voice and the ever-familiar stride, Harry wouldn't have realized who the man was.

Severus Snape had the same glower, the same coldness in his face. But his other tale-tell aspects seemed gone. His long, greasy hair - the source of many a joke for Harry and doubtless years of students - was cut short, swept off his face, and the pure black of it was dotted with gray. He held himself straight and tall, chin in the air, eyes on Dumbledore but doubtless aware of everyone in the room.

Harry blinked, and a moment later he shut a mouth he didn't realize was open.

"Bloody hell," came a mutter from Tonks's area.

"Severus!" Albus smiled, moving to meet the new arrival.

Albus's face, Harry thought, had a familiar expression. Like Remus's when he watched Harry sometimes. Harry thought of it as paternal, though he had no range of experience in that outside of Remus.

"My boy, how good of you to come. I trust you brought Hermes back safely."

"Owlery," Snape answered even as his face softened into something like a smile. He took Albus's outstretched hand and shook.

Minerva was next, as always dogging Albus's steps and holding her own creased hand out to him. "Severus. "

"Minerva." Another faint smile and terse shake.

Harry glanced at Ron and saw an expression that quite suited the way Harry felt. Past Ron Hermione had quite the same look, a fact that made Harry feel slightly better.

"I brought someone." Snape's voice at least had not changed. It was still low, clipped.

"Splendid. Room enough for everyone."

Snape glanced back at the door as two chairs appeared in answer to Albus's words, one a black leather armchair much like the ones Harry remembered from Snape's office, and the other a soft green cushioned seat. Slytherin green?

Irish green. Harry _knew_ he was gaping this time as a man came in, grinning and achingly familiar.

"Merlin's balls!" Ron got out, shooting out of his chair. "Seamus?"

A light laugh greeted that, and indeed it was Seamus Finnigan, a little older but still their old dormmate. "Hullo, Ron, Hermione. Harry." He moved in and greeted Ron with a hug that took the redhead by surprise if his squeak was any indication.

"Seamus! But you're dead!" Hermione went to him, and Harry rose from his chair.

"Vicious lies." Seamus hugged her, and held a hand out to Harry. "It's been a while."

Harry nodded, shaking. "I suppose there's a story behind it."

"Always! I've got a yarn for everything." Seamus released him and beamed towards the middle of the circle. He greeted Minerva as if she were another school chum, pulling her into a hug. "Professor McGonagall! You look fantastic!"

Minerva smiled as she pulled back, her eyes bright. "Mr. Finnigan. We were all stunned by your death. I'm very pleased to be more stunned by your rebirth."

"My pleasure." Seamus laughed. "Hullo, Professor Dumbledore. Hope it's alright that I came along."

"Splendid, my boy." From the look on his face Harry thought that maybe this was one thing that actually had managed to take Dumbledore by surprise. "I'm always glad to take a name off the list of departed students."

Seamus grinned. "I'm just here for Severus, so I'll sit down and be as quiet as humanly possible, and you just pretend I'm not here." He flashed a wave to the others in the room, most of whom he couldn't have known, and brightened when he saw Remus. The green armchair vanished and appeared again beside the werewolf, and he went over happily, sitting down and twisting to chatter at Remus, eyes bright.

Harry's brow furrowed. This was too odd. Snape's appearance and now Seamus Finnigan back from the dead and grinning like it was just another day in the dorms.

"Here for Severus?" Ron muttered a moment later, blatantly staring between the excited blond and Snape. "Bloody hell, and we thought catching You Know Who was the interesting part of all this."

Harry nodded and moved back to his chair, waiting for the meeting to begin again. There was a little too much to compute at once, but Harry knew Albus, so he knew Seamus and Snape both would be staying until the entire story was out.

Snape turned and looked at the empty bergere chair sternly. It vanished and reappeared on Seamus's other side. He strode over and sat without a word, looking around in silent challenge.

No one said anything. Harry saw many faces looking as surprised and almost amused as he felt himself.


	4. Stubbornness

"Okay, but he's just going to tell us anything we want to know anyway." Ron Weasley's voice sounded, petulant as always, as he was going for the door.

Snape shook his head, warily bemused by the whole thing. The old castle had brought back a lot of feelings and memories, and it didn't help him deal well with being surrounded by idiots who acted as if they were still students.

Petulant or not, at least Weasley was leaving. Everyone but Potter, Minerva and Lupin, and Albus of course, was being sent away. Snape would not speak openly in front of unknown elements. The only reason Potter was staying was that Albus insisted, and Snape knew he wouldn't bend on that.

His eyes followed Seamus as the boy followed the others out, and Seamus glanced back with a smile.

Snape nodded, knowing Seamus would wait for him.

The door shut behind the departing group, and Snape turned back to face Albus. "Enough wasting time with pointless self-congratulations. He is still alive."

"He is being housed at the Ministry, in a room specially built for this circumstance."

Snape blew out an irritated breath, shaking his head. This circumstance should never have been considered, much less provided for. "He will be killed?"

"The Ministry is voting on that." Lupin hadn't changed a bit - his quiet interjections still reeked of inoffensiveness, as if mildness was a trait that ever won anyone anything.

Snape's eyes didn't leave Albus. "He will be killed."

"The Ministry thinks they can learn things from him."

He glared over at Potter when the brat spoke. "If I wanted to know what the Ministry thought I would be there now."

"He will be killed," came the answer, finally, from behind the desk.

Snape looked back, satisfied. "If those dunderheads vote against it we will have to do it ourselves. " He amended that a moment later. "We will have to do it ourselves nonetheless. i Why /i was he brought in alive?"

Albus nodded towards Potter.

Snape grimaced. He took in the boy, noting that very little had changed about him. His glasses were dirty, his hair a tangled mess. That scar seemed darker, but that was no surprise. He sat as if in detention, slumped and sullen. He returned Snape's look with eyes that read of hatred.

"We fought. I won. He wasn't dead. What should I have done?"

Snape stared at him.

Potter's cheeks went pink and he looked away, whether in anger or embarrasment Snape wasn't sure.

"You people are throwing yourselves parties to celebrate nothing. The most you can say now is that you know where the Dark Lord is, and that's only a small part of the battle."

"He's helpless where he is," Potter said, voice rising. "The Unspeakables and the Aurors are all watching over him. He is warded and unconscious, and what the bloody hell gives you the right to suddenly show up again when all the work is done and just -"

"Harry." Lupin's voice, obnoxiously placating.

"All the work is done?" Snape scoffed, looking away from the boy. "Albus, you know better than this."

"They must be allowed to enjoy successes as they come, Severus. Times have not been easy lately."

"Coddle them when the Dark Lord is destroyed! All of you have lost your minds." Snape stood up, wondering if there was a chaance Seamus was alone out there so they could simply leave. He doubted it. The boy drew people to him. "I've not got the patience left to deal with this. Thank you for bringing me back here to show me again why I left, Albus. I'll be going."

"Coward."

Snape's head jerked. Potter slumped there, anger on his face as if he had some right to it.

"You never learned a thing, Potter. You're a conceitedidiot like your father."

"And you're a _coward _and a traitor who ran away just when things got hard." Potter jumped out of his chair, brushing off Lupin's reaching arm.

"What do you know of hard?" Snape wheeled and strode towards Potter, rage like he hadn't felt in a long time building inside him so rapidly he could taste the acid of it in his throat. "What do you know of anything?"

"I've been here fighting. I lost Hagrid, and Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Charlie, and Sirius. We lost Dean Thomas and -"

"Nothing. You know nothing." Snape turned on his heel, marching towards the door. The news of the Weasleys was surprising, and he couldn't say he didn't feel a twist of regret. That family was annoying and incredibly invasive, but they were dedicated.

"Severus."

He bristled, turning with his hand on the gilded doorknob. "Why bring me back, Albus? They don't want me here and there is nothing I can contribute."

There was no twinkle in Albus's face. He stood, and when he walked around the desk Snape tried not to notice how much slower he moved. "Voldemort will be killed. We will have to do it."

Snape grimaced. He knew that well enough. He was a few steps ahead of the idiots in the room with them. Did they think someone could walk into the Dark Lord's presence, warded or not, brandish a wand and that would be that? Did Potter think the Dark Lord would fester quietly until someone could hit him with a killing curse?

There was so much they weren't taking into account, so much Snape knew they should realize. It was their foolishness that infuriated him more than anything. Why, he never understood, did they never learn?

"I'm no help, Albus. They don't want my help and I don't want to offer it. There is nothing I can bring to this that you don't already know."

"I would appreciate if you would stay."

"Of course you would. But you're asking too much."

"I've not begun to ask too much, Severus."

Whenever Snape thought back on Albus, on their meetings and the old man's deranged sort of wisdom, Snape thought he should despise him. No matter how many steps ahead Snape was, Albus was beyond him. He was always beyond, and he would never give a word more than he thought he should. He had kept secrets that would have avoided Snape pain if he had known. He had manipulated Snape in a thousand ways since Snape had shown up in this very office twenty years ago asking for help.

He manipulated everyone. He used them, he treated them like children who couldn't handle knowing full truths. He spoonfed them bits of information, gave them hope only when he had no other choice, and babied them in a hundred different ways.

Snape should have despised the man. He should have spit in his face and left that office behind, knowing there would be no peace in his life.

But it wasn't that easy. The truth never was cut and dry like that.

Dumbledore used them and babied them and manipulated them. But he did it to end a war. He commited the ultimate sin for a leader - he cared about them. He hurt for them, even as he was the one bringing them pain.

Snape shook his head, unable to hate the man but unable to be a puppet any longer. Not after having known his small but important taste of freedom the last few years. "Let me know when it's done. If it's done. Good day, Albus."

He turned and left the room, going down the small and winding staircase. Amazement at his refusal made his second-guess every footstep. Potter was despicable, but he was nothing more than an idiot child. Did he truly have so much influence over Snape's decisions? This was the end of an era, the end of the worst of mistakes in Snape's life. A chance to see things through to a real conclusion. A chance to free himself, instead of being freed. To make sure that if by some miracle Potter did manage to kill Voldemort, he wouldn't have to be beholdent to the boy.

He was tense as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and he opened the door out into the corridor hoping against common sense that no one would be there to set him off.

Laughter greeted his arrival, and the air outside that door was so much lighter than in the office it made his breaths feel less substantial somehow.

"Severus!" Brilliant green eyes unclouded with darkness landed on him, and Seamus's face curved in a smile. There was joy in him, a lightness in his steps as he approached, and there was color in cheeks that has been too pale for too long.

Behind him, noted but not for more than an instant, were Weasley and Granger.

Snape's eyes fastened on Seamus, studying the sight of that smile and those pink, almost healthy-looking cheeks.

"Ron and Hermione are staying here as well! It'll be almost like having the old dorm back."

Snape looked away with a frown, at the two watching children. Weasley and Granger. They hadn't changed either. Weasley still sweated awkwardness, Granger still lofted her nose in that smug intelligent way she was probably unaware of. These were the ones left to fight his war. Them and Potter.

Potter, who called him coward as if he knew. As if life were ever that simple.

"- to know where we'll go. Right? Severus?" Seamus's hand appeared as warm weight on his arm. "Did you hear me?"

He looked back into bright green eyes. "No."

Seamus laughed, but his eyes were concerned. "It wasn't important anyway. Just...I'm glad we decided to come. "

That caught Snape's attention. Seamus had almost as many unresolved emotions towards this school and its residents as he himself did. Not just with the school, but with the wizarding world itself. Snape had worried bringing him back there.

But there was sincerity in his eyes, and Seamus was a horrid liar.

Snape let out a breath. "We need to talk. Alone." His eyes went to the others in that corridor.

Granger looked curious. Weasley, defiant.

Seamus took his arm and immediately walked them away from Dumbledore's office and the two standing there mutely. He led them around a corner and out of earshot. "What's going on? What happened?"

Snape frowned at a nearby suit of armor and kept moving. "There is no point in us staying. They won't listen to me, and what little advantage they have they're going to lose. Nothing has changed here."

"Severus."

He stopped far enough from any meddling armor or paintings and glowered at his companion. "This is just what I left behind."

"No." Seamus lay a hand on his arm, light and unhesitating. "You've changed. You don't need them anymore, Severus. They're the ones who need you. But you do need an ending." His hand slid until it rested over the numb ache of Marked skin. "You can be done with this. The potions and the nightmares. The worrying. You can be free, and you know as well as I do that you'll never be happy until you are."

Snape snorted, looking away from those eyes. "I'll never be happy because that's not who I am."

"A few days, Severus. Isn't that all it will take? You'll make them understand whatever they don't understand, and then it will be over and we can go home."

"We can go home now. I don't need to deal with this, and you don't need to be kept in this bloody castle."

"Don't use me as your reason," Seamus replied. "I need this as much as you do. It's nice to see everyone and to realize that whatever foolish thoughts I had about them were wrong, but after so many years no resolution comes that quickly. I want to talk to them, too look around...maybe to speak to Professor McGonagall about what I missed. If I could get some of it back, Severus, maybe I could take care of myself a little more. "

"You don't need to take care of yourself." Severus meant to snap the words, but they came out softer than he intended. He reached out without knowing why and neatened some disheveled hair from over Seamus's forehead.

"We could both get better. Even if just a little, isn't that worth it?" Seamus met his eyes and suddenly smiled. "Don't you want to be here when you're proven right? Don't you want the thanks you've deserved for so long?"

Snape snorted, voice softening further despite himself. "If I thought I would get it..."

"You will. I'll see to it myself." Seamus pulled back a step, straightening in determination. "I'll infiltrate their ranks and be the inside man when it all comes to a head. "

Snape sighed, almost wanting to smile despite himself. "You are a foolish child."

Seamus grinned. "I know. You'll thank me for it later."


	5. Sanctuary

_Author's Note: Thanks to Jenonymous. Apparently you're the only one reading, but as long as you like it it's all good. -)_

Walking into Hogwarts for the first time in years felt like walking into a prison, especially after growing used to wide plains and green grasses.

The grounds weren't very different from Ireland. The green was darker - it wasn't just an Irish myth that there was no green anywhere like the green that covered their country - but the air was crisp and cold, the stones were dark, and the world felt old.

It also felt magical. Snape had gotten use to being the only wizard for hundreds of miles. He had his laboratory set up in their home on the plain, such as it was, and it was a small pocket of warded air and thick charms. But now that prickling sensation was everywhere, filling the grounds, the castle, every inch and every breath.

Hogwarts had a scale that was hard to get reaccustomed to. The towers and walls went up forever, ending only to reveal turrets behind that stretched even higher. Hogwarts, whatever else it was, was a giant stone monstrosity of a building. Everything had the feel of being too large - the walls were too high, corridors too wide. Wide beams curved twenty feet above his head. The torches glowed too brightly, and the air hung heavy.

As he first made his way down into the dungeons he dreaded what he would find there. His home and shelter for so long felt like a prison to him now - if that feeling spread to the only place he had truly felt was his own, he wasn't sure how he would feel.

Seamus was there, walking a step behind him and out of his sight. Did he realize that this was important to Snape? Did he not want to be a distraction? Perhaps. He was a foolish child, but he did show a remarkable perceptiveness about Snape's feelings.

Snape was able to forget he was there as he moved through the corridors and down the familiar path to his former home.

The air changed the closer he got. The stone darkened with moisture, the torches were further apart and less insistent in their glow. Light flickered off the walls; the only decoration as statues and paintings grew further apart and finally ceased entirely.

The air was rich with earth. Children griped often about how cold and dank it was, and Dumbledore had years ago installed windows, charmed to reveal sunlight, to give the brats some comfort.

Sunlight and warmth reaked havoc on a good deal of delicate potions, but they hadn't cared about that. It was ironic in a way - they had never cared what Snape taught or how valuable it was, because like his surroundings he himself was unpleasant. Some students had been smarter than that, of course. Percy Weasley was one, which made his later defection from his family not an entire surprise. The revelation that he had been a recruit of Dumbledore the entire time made sense as well. He was ambitious and intelligent. Unpopular. He had gotten lucky that he hadn't followed the path Snape did.

He moved down the staircase. His nervousness began to diminish and his feeling of coming home began to feel less like a punishment.

The ceilings were lower, the corridors more narrow. The dungeons were home to more secret rooms and paths than the whole of the other four floors of the castle combined, which meant the halls were more given to abrupt curves and corners to compensate some hidden path behind.

His eyes lifted as he walked the path to his old classroom. His shoulders grew straighter, his breathing deeper. It felt old down there. Dark. That was a reason the children complained, but it was also a reason Snape had chosen to make the dungeons his home entirely, asking his quarters to be moved down there. He fit there. Surrounding himself with darkness made his own inherent ugliness less noticeable.

The door to the classroom creaked just as it used to. The low groan of heavy wood made him feel warmer. Home. He had missed no one, but he had missed this. He hadn't asked who had filled his position while he was away, he realized as he entered. He had no idea what sort of foul condition his labs and classrooms were left in.

The room was dark, but the torches erupted into light as he stepped inside. The tables were in the same places, his desk remained where it had been. A stranger's writing was on the board, and the bottles and stores were all rearranged, but he breathed in the sharp air of his class and sighed out again deeply.

He moved through the room, trailing a hand along the solid wood of the student tables as he went. The old loose stone near the front of the class shifted under his foot and something like a smile touched his face.

His desk, unorganized and populated with strange artifacts and sloppily labeled bottles, threatened his smile. He looked past to the door to his office, wondering how much of it was maligned.

A sound caught his attention and he remembered that someone else was with him.

"Welcome home," Seamus said with a smile when Snape turned.

Snape returned the smile faintly, hands curved around the leather of his old chair. He turned and went to the office. There were no charms on the doors that he could detect, a fact that made him frown. The new professor had no sense of sescurity, and that was far too dangerous when teaching children who would steal on a whim or a dare or a foolish idea of making love potions or nonsense like that.

He pushed the door open and looked around. The torches sparked lowly on, reflecting thick specks of dust in the air. Flame glittered off glass bottles from every direction, illuminating the pinks and blues and murky greens of their contents. Round eyes and black beetles glimmered, adding to the sparkle of the dusty room, and he breathed in thick air wih a sudden spark of realization.

His stores. Hogsmeade. His old connections. He could get them all back in line by the end of the day, and receive any ingredients he needed. The time and trouble of getting them shipped to his home in Ireland without being discovered, the false names and bouncing addresses, wasn't necessary. He could get things he had lost all chance of acquiring. In that very room was enough to make the potions he needed for the next month.

He moved out of the office, already compiling a mental list of what he should replenish and who he should owl to reestablish contact. Some of the theories he had compiled through the last months but been unable to test came to his mind. He would have to unpack his notes and get them organized.

Seamus sat at the student table closest to the office. His cheeks were pale and his breathing seemed faster. The dusty air, Snape realized. They would have to leave.

There was an odd look in Seamus's eyes. Snape moved to him. "You're well?"

Seamus nodded. "Just...memories. What-ifs."

"Useless," Snape replied.

"I know. But hard to ignore." Seamus stood. "Are you done for now? We should unpack. You need your potion."

"And you need yours." Snape's arm throbbed, right on cue. He grimaced. "Albus says my quarters were left untouched. I assume my replacement wasn't as comfortable underground as I. Thank Merlin."

Seamus smiled. "Is it such a mess in here?"

"Unforgivable," Snape replied, casting one last look around the room. He would be back soon enough. "If Albus is correct and my rooms were never raided, you will be the first person besides me to ever see them. "

Seamus smiled, accepting the words as a sign that Snape's reflection was done. He joined Snape and walked beside him as they left the classroom for the further depths of the dungeons. "You never had anyone for tea? I'm shocked."

Snape smirked. "The house elves would invade when it was supposed I had gone too long without eating. Meddlesome beasts. But no. Even Albus knew not to attempt to visit me there."

Seamus reached for Snape's hand. "I'm honored. There's room enough for me there? There were rumours when I was a student that you lived in a cave and slept in a crypt."

"Indeed."

"That is, when the rumours that you were a vampire who never needed sleep weren't more popular."

Snape glanced at him. "Yet you didn't run screaming when you saw me again after years of that talk."

"Gryffindor bravery," Seamus replied. A moment later the smile on his face faded. "That's...odd. You know, I haven't thought of myselfas a Gryffindorin years."

Snape left him to his thoughts, reaching his old quarters and pulling out his wand to speak the words to let them in. The door opened and he smirked. He would have to change the wards. The nonsensical Latin of his charm would be far too much for Seamus to remember.

Torches lit as the door swung open, and he found his rooms just as he left them.

Heavy green velvet and silver accents remained free of dust and the signs of time passing. The work of house elves, no doubt. The large living room greeted them: overstuffed sofa and armchairs by the large fireplace and long shelves with rows of books. The books more than anything made him smile. He had left hurriedly years ago and sorely missed the things he couldn't take. The stone floor was softened by an ornate rug in patterns of green and silver - Sytherin through and through. He was proud of his house despite the bad it had done him, and proud of his students when he had been head.

Seamus whistled and moved in further, looking around. The fireplace caught his attention and he moved to it. "Can we light this?"

Snape flickered his wand and the logs burst into flames instantly: cold was no good for Seamus.

"Bloody hell, Severus. This is nice."

Snape nodded. "These rooms were my own. My one luxury." The only thing he had ever had entirely for himself. The one thing he hadn't shared with his two masters, not once. These rooms were sacred, and he had made sure they were comfortable.

He nodded at the distant kitchen. "Food." And then towards the door leading to the bedroom. "Bed and bath."

Seamus lit up. "Bath? Honestly?"

"Mm." A hot bath was a luxury their last home didn't have. Snape had on occasion transfigured a cauldron into a large enough tub and charmed some water to stay hot, but their magic use was cautious and it hadn't seemed a necessary luxury. "I can guess where you'll be as I unpack and get my laboratory ready."

"Well, honestly, I'd do you no good there, would I? Just follow you around and get in your way and break things."

"Of course."

Seamus grinned and moved to the door. Snape watched with a smile as pure shock touched the boy where simple surprise had been before. "Severus!"

He moved to the door, looking in beyond Seamus. "You didn't think I'd treat myself beyond the sitting room?"

"I'd have believed the vampire rumours more than this, if someone had forwarded the truth as a theory." Seamus moved in and went to the bed. Sitting on the edge and bouncing in experimentation, he seemed to shrink into the dark of the spread. He groaned and his eyes rolled back in pleasure as he fell on his back. "You're a hedonist. I always knew there was something about you I didn't know."

Snape laughed, amused at the thought of 'hedonist' being the big secret he had been protecting all these years. The soft bed had been necessary - nightmares and late night calls and returning from the Dark Lord's side in pain and sensitive from _crucios_ had made the bed a form of therapy. But Seamus didn't need to know that.

He moved to the other side of the room, setting alight torches around a large, deep stone tub. He murmured the charm and water began filling the stone, steam rising.

Seamus rose and crossed the room in a flash. Watching the bath fill he leaned in and lay his chin on Snape's shoulder. "If anyone asks...I'll go with the crypt version."

Snape chuckled and turned to Seamus. The boy understood, which was unsurprising by now but still a nice thing to remember. He understood that Snape was how he was for a reason. That if he wanted people knowing he lived this way he would have put an end to those rumours that, yes, he was more than aware of. It might have been silly to still crave his privacy over something as trivial as a large, soft bed. But Snape craved it nonetheless, and without being asked Seamus would oblige.

He nodded towards the bath. "I need to get to work. You'll be alright here."

"Of course." Seamus began unfastening robes and tugging off clothes without a trace of self-consciousness.

"I expect the house elves will have everything unpacked without our aid, so relax until I return."

"Of course," the boy repeated with a cheeky smile as he stepped out of his slacks and trousers.

Snape took a moment - he could afford a moment - to indulge himself. The winter in County Mayo meant constant need for warmth, and despite their proximity he hadn't had a chance to study Seamus in too long.

He had lost weight. Snape could almost see ribs, and the curve of hipbones was apparent. But his skin was golden and unmarred. The lines of his legs, the curves of a flawless chest, the sheer soft warmth of youth.

Seamus had the sort of beauty that made Snape self-conscious. If the dungeons made his ugliness fade, Seamus made it stand out in sharp relief. Just looking at glowing, muscled skin made his skin feel sharper. Were he to look at himself now, unhidden by clothes, he would see nothing but whiteness and bone.

He hadn't realized before Seamus that a self-conscious streak existed. But if that was the worst thing about having a beautiful boy naked before him, it was hardly reason to complain. He drank in the boy, from well-formed legs to golden hair, and everything in between. And then he brought his eyes to Seamus's face and kept them there - he did need to get organized, and didn't need this distraction.

Seamus seemed to see that in his face. He tried to pout. "You're not going to join me?"

Snape shook his head. "You need to relax, not tire yourself out further. I have potions to brew."

"And to take," Seamus reminded him, sternness crossing his face as much as he could show.

"And to take." Snape sighed, rubbing at his arm under the robe. "If you need anything..."

"I won't. I'll be fine."

"The house elves will answer a summons."

"Severus."

"I'll be near."

"I know."

Snape drew in a breath and nodded. "Get in, then, and rest. Travel is more dangerous than you realize."

Seamus rolled his eyes, but his expression was open and affectionate. "Promise me I'll get a chance to wash your back one of these days, at least."

Snape shook his head and sighed, turning to leave the room almost reluctantly. "Brat."

A light laugh sounded as he moved through the living room. He stopped in the doorway, turning back and taking a long look around. His old home, silent and his alone. Just as he had left it.

Now home for two.

It was odd, he reflected as he turned to return to his classroom. Odd the things that bothered him now, and the things that used to be so vital that somehow weren't anymore.


	6. Decisions

Harry stared into the fire, lost in thought.

Snape. He had no idea why the man made him so fiercely emotional, but he did. He always had. Whether it was fear or anger or shame, Snape had a way of making him feel things ten times stronger than normal, and that wasn't something he was comfortable with. Seeing him today had brought it all back.

Seeing the smirk on his face when he returned to Dumbledore's office after storming out like a spoiled child made Harry's entire body clench with annoyance. Seeing the gratitude in Dumbledore's eyes when he announced so obnoxiously that he had changed his mind made Harry burn.

What could Snape bring to this that wasn't there already? If Voldemort was to be killed the Ministry could bloody well do it themselves.

Harry was just...he was tired. He was ready for it to be over. He had done what he was supposed to do. The i Prophet /i declared him done, the child of prophecy they had always said he was. Hypocrites, but they were right. He had been born to a Prophecy, it had ruined every single aspect of his life, and now he had fulfilled it. Wasn't he done? Wasn't it over?

Wasn't his life his own now, for the first time?

Snape acted like it wasn't, and that infuriated Harry. What right did he have to say that? To come in and place judgement on them and what they had done, and undermine what Harry had accomplished? What had Snape done? Run off. Hidden. Made everyone think he was dead and gone. That, in Harry's eyes, pretty much erased whatever slight value his opinion might have held.

"Come on, mate. Not still sulking, are you?"

Ron's voice made him jump, and he looked around with a glare. "Don't do that! Merlin, Ron."

Ron grinned. "Oi. A little uptight?"

"What kind of Auror doesn't know better than to sneak up on people? Especially people who've been trained in Unforgivables? Really, Ron."

"Stop it. You have that Hermione voice going again." Ron, apparently unworried, sat down across from him. "Anyway, if you want privacy you should start using that room Dumbledore gave you and stop spending your time in here. " He gestured around the room.

"I like it here," Harry retorted. The couches and chairs, the wide open spaces and bright paintings. The stairs leading up to the dorms. This was home for him more than any guest room.

"Yeah. Me too." Ron looked around briefly but turned his eyes back to Harry. "So. You are still sulking, aren't you?"

Harry glared at him then turned back to the fire.

"Oh, come on. Was he that bad?"

"It hasn't been that many years, Ron. You know what he's like."

"Yeah. But you're the hero now, and he's just the bitter git who ran away like a...a git." Ron shrugged. "You win, don't you."

Harry blew out a breath, throwing himself back against the chair. "What good is winning if he doesn't act like I won? Really, is one bit of appreciation too much to ask? I brought Voldemort himself in. Alive."

Ron blinked. "You want Snape to _thank _you?"

"No! I want..." He frowned. "I want him to go away. That's all."

"Mmm hmm." Ron didn't look convinced.

Harry frowned into the fire. He didn't know what he wanted. Snape's approval and respect meant nothing to him. He didn't need to earn it. He had done more than enough to prove to the world that he was good enough. But a part of him just wondered...

It didn't matter. He sighed and pushed up his glasses. "Seamus."

Ron accepted the change of subject with a grunt of acknowledgement. "Wasn't dead. How about that."

"Yeah. Wonder what happened."

Seamus's disappearance had been a blow to them in sixth year. The summer had passed, long and tainted with Dursleys and fear, and then back to school to a dorm with an empty bed. The entire Finnigan family, wiped out. The act of Death Eaters, of course, lashing out at Seamus's pureblood mother ruining herself with his Muggle father, or so Minerva had explained bitterly when the four remaining Gryffindor boys had gone to her to ask.

Nothing left. Three bodies, buried on the land where their house once stood, not even mentioned in a Muggle newspaper because there was no town close enough to take note. It was a bad ending for their friend, even if Harry and Seamus hadn't always gotten along.

And now he was back, smiling and fine. Accompanying Severus Snape.

"We should get him in here and grill him. Wonder why he came with the Git?"

Harry shrugged. "They're staying here, so we'll have a chance to find out. I thinkMinerva wants to know just as badly. She never could stand losing a student. "

"Dean...would've been happy."

Another silent nod, another thrum of pain. Dean had been devestated by his best friend's death, and had jumped into the fighting with a fury that surprised everyone. His artist ambitions vanished. He trained as an auror and was killed before the training was done. A simple act of murder outside the Ministry, random curses fired into a crowd. Screams and sulphur and green lights, and Harry had been so angry at the injustice.

He wondered if Seamus knew.

His reflections, such as they were, grew darker, and he turned to Ron. "Let's talk about something else."

"Something else? You don't want to throw around theories about Seamus?" Ron grinned. "Think Snape kidnapped him during the Death Eater attack?"

"Wouldn't put it past him," Harry answered back with heat in his voice that surprised even him.

The door to the common room flew open before Ron could answer that, and Hermione dashed in. Untamed hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but her eyes were excited enough to make her look wild. "Percy's back!"

"Bully for Percy," came Ron's automatic retort.

"Ron, grow up. He's back with the Ministry's decision."

Harry's stomach gave a sharp twist, and he rose from his seat. "Let's get it over with, then."

Snape let Seamus in first, then shut the door behind him. "Well?"

"Like you were the ones waiting on us."

Snape ignored Weasley, focusing on his older brother. Percy looked, as always, like he had just been stretched on a rack and was physically unable to relax.

"First of all, Minister Fudge would like it to be known that he took into account the words of various advisors, along with the wishes of the wizarding-"

"Oh, bloody _hell._"

Percy's eyes snapped to Ron and then back. He opened his mouth, but hesitated as if thinking back to the spot he'd been in a prepared monologue.

"Please, Percy, just the decision." Lupin, conciliatory as always.

"Fine." Percy sniffed. "You Know Who is to die. At once."

Sighs of relief echoed through the room. Snape felt his shoulders slump. Seamus's hand appeared on his lower back.

Percy wasn't done. "And they want Harry to do it."

No surprise there.

Though obviously Potter didn't agree. "What?"

"Harry, we talked about -"

"I've done my part," Potter cut Lupin off, rising from his chair and glaring at Percy as if he had made the decision himself. "I'm done!"

"The consensus," Percy went on, "is that you are the only one who will be able to end it. There was talk for a time of asking Professor Dumbledore, but the subject of the Prophecy came up, and-"

"_SOD _the Prophecy," Potter shouted, hands curled in fists, face red. The eternal ten-year-old.

"The Ministry wants to be sure that it is done right and that we are rid of the entire matter. They are calling on you to do this, Harry." Percy's posture was still statued, but his voice was softer.

"No."

"Harry. We will discuss this calmly," Albus said.

Potter ignored him. "Tell the Ministry that they have their own executioner, and it's not me! I am _through_!"

"Potter, shut up and sit down." Snape moved away from Seamus. "Stop acting as if you ended the entire war just by knocking the Dark Lord unconscious."

"You stay out of this. It has nothing to do with you."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Fine. You've said no, you're free to leave. The rest of us will work out what's to be done instead."

"Severus."

Snape held a hand towards Lupin to shut him up.

Sure enough, Potter glared but fell momentarily silent. "I'm not doing it," he said a moment later, chin sticking out.

"It's not your choice," Snape answered, facing the boy. "It's Prophecy."

"You don't believe in Prophecies." Potter faced him. His fury and hatred was prevelant, but there was something in his expression. A plea. "You told me that in sixth year. You said everyone was mental for trusting me with this."

Snape smirked. "I don't believe in the Prophecy Trelawney made. I don't believe in the load of nonsense diviners come up with. I do believe in the stupidity and cowardice of human nature. Self-fulfilling prophecies are very real, and congratulations: you're stuck in one. No one else is going to kill him, because they believe you are the only one who can. So you are the only one who can."

Harry shook his head. "Than you do it. Dumbledore do it. Someone else can bloody well do it, because I'm not going to."

"Yes, you are."

"No!"

"Yes. Because whether it's bollucks or whether it's self-fulfilling, you want it to end as much as I do." Snape folded his arms over his chest. "You aren't content with him alive and in the hands of those incompetents at the Ministry. You have no choice, Potter, because you're foolish and stubborn."

"To hell with you, coward. You have no right..." Potter was almost incoherent. "You're the one who ran."

"Is that why you're running now? You want to follow in my footsteps. How touching." Snape's voice was his most poisonous.

Sure enough Potter blanched and fell silent. His face was white, his fists clenched so hard he looked to be close to hurting himself.

"That's enough." Albus spoke, calm but firm. "Percy, kindly return to the Minister and tell him a decision will be made by the morning. Everyone, you're excused. Harry, please remain and share a few words with me. "

Snape turned on his heel and marched to the door, content that he had won this argument.

The key, really, was knowing what would hurt your opponent most. In Potter's case, it was any implication that he had something in common with someone he hated. The noble arrogance in him couldn't stand it.


	7. Doubts

Snape opened the door with a smirk.

Seamus didn't even bother looking sheepish. He moved into the room. "He's going to do it."

"Of course he is."

"Severus. This isn't easy for him, I think."

Snape shrugged and moved back to the books he was sorting. "Potter's comfort has never been a concern of mine."

There was a pause, and then a wry statement. "We're invited to dinner tomorrow night."

Snape turned back to him. "What?"

"Ron asked me before I left. Said they wanted a chance to catch up."

"Don't say i we /i , boy. Not when you know full well that I am not included in the offer."

"You're invited because I am. I told that to Ron. He said alright."

"I'm impressed. They must be more curious aboutus than I predicted if it outweighs their hatred of me."

"They don't..." Seamus hesitated.

Snape smirked and went back to his shelving.

"Right. Should I expect to be on my own then?"

"When is Potter going to fulfill his prophecy?"

"Tomorrow. He wants it done fast."

"Good."

"Severus, I asked you-"

"Don't ask again. Not when you already know the answer."

A sigh. "Alright. I'll bring you something back."

"The house elves will be more than content to prepare me a meal."

Footsteps. Warm breath on his neck and hands sliding around his waist to join at his stomach. "Severus."

"What?" Snape felt inexplicably irritated.

"I love you."

He snorted. "You need me."

"Yes. I do. But those two things have nothing to do with each other."

"You're a foolish child."

"But for some reason you love me as well."

Snape laughed.

Insistent hands clutched at him, and Seamus moved until he stood at Snape's front with hands resting on the small of his back.

"I have work to do." Snape met his eyes, Ireland-green and innocent. He sighed.

Seamus chuckled. "You're lucky I have no need for romance."

Snape smiled, begrudging but sincere. "You should realize, if you haven't yet. These people are glad to see you. They don't feel that way towards me. The best of them resent me, the worst despise. I'll not be your date to any dinner parties, and I predict more than one concerted effort to free you from my evil sway." His voice pitched low, speaking of a more sincere fear that he cared to admit.

Seamus, as uncomplicated as ever, laughed. "They're not stupid, though. They'll give up quickly."

Snape wasn't so sure, but he didn't argue.

"They're just surprised, Severus. And they have a lot on their minds. They don't know what to make of either of us."

"Mm. And if they should try, as they no doubt will tomorrow night?"

Seamus cocked his head. "Try? What, to rescue me from you?"

Snape looked at him.

He wasn't sure why he asked. He had never been one to need reassurances. Even had he need of them, he wouldn't outright ask for one. That would have been an admission that he was uncertain, vulnerable, and that the answer would have some sway over him.

It was hard enough admitting that to himself.

When Seamus had come into his life it had been the way every student did - he had crept into the dungeon classroom, anxious and full of rumour about the dread Potions Master. Seamus hadn't been a particularly good student, and - worse yet - he had been a Gryffindor. One of Harry Potter's little clan.

Snape heard of his death and the execution of his family with the rest of the staff during a meeting before the start of term, and it had barely registered. Part of him felt sympathy for Minerva, who was a decent woman and took hurts personally. Still, he had hardly felt the boy's absense. There was too much else to be worried about.

How, then, had it come to this? To arms wrapped around him and a person sharing his space. Snape's near admission of weakness, and the certainty Snape had for the first time in the course of his dealings with other people that somehow Seamus understood.

Seamus didn't laugh at the question, the weakness. He didn't dismiss it. He also didn't show even a moment of surprise at being asked. He just met Snape's eyes and tightened his grasp.

"Since I doubt very much they will understand, at least this early, I will simply tell them that we are what we are, and they have to respect it."

Snape wanted to laugh at how easy Seamus believed it would all be. But he didn't.

"Harry?"

Harry shifted on the bed. "You never bloody listen."

"No, we don't." That was Hermione. They were both there. Lovely.

He reached out a hand and parted the curtain drawn around the bed. "Bugger off."

Ron flashed a crooked smile. "Sorry, but you'll have to try harder than that."

Hermione moved to the bed, tugging the curtain open and sitting down on the mattress. "Harry. I don't understand, honestly."

Harry sat back with a sigh. His legs curled up to give them more room, and he hugged his knees to his chest.

"You're acting as if this is the first time it's ever been suggested that you kill him. But you knew when you heard the Prophecy."

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to do it, what difference does it make?"

"I hate to see you upset." Hermione reached out and touched his leg.

"As much as we should be used to it by now," Ron added.

Hermione turned sharp eyes to her fiance. "Ron! It's not the time for jokes."

Ron frowned and shrugged, sitting down on the bed next to Harry's.

"Listen. It's not as if there's anything innocent in him. Snape is right, as much as it pains me to admit it. While he's alive this just won't ever be over. There would always be a fear that he would escape."

Harry frowned. "I know that."

"So what's wrong? Tell us."

"What's wrong is that he was supposed to die in that house." Harry sat up, folding his legs under him, looking from Hermione to Ron. "He was supposed to have his wand out, trying to kill me or someone else, when I killed him."

"You know he would try to kill even now if he could."

"That's not the point." Harry shook his head, frustrated. "I don't want to bloody talk about this, alright?"

"Listen, mate, tomorrow's going to-"

"Ron." Hermione drew in a breath and patted Harry's leg. "Maybe we should just leave him alone. I think Harry just needs some time to think."

Ron stood, but he hung behind as she left the room.

Harry felt his gaze and raised his eyebrows.

"Listen. You're not an executioner. You won't be different tomorrow. You're still you, Harry, and if You Know Who couldn't change that than the Ministry sure won't."

Harry flinched, surprised Ron had hit the matter so closely.

Ron shrugged and backed out. "See you tomorrow." He went and followed Hermione, shutting the door behind him.

Harry looked out at the round dorm, the five beds. How many children had slept in this room, scared and dreading the future? How many of them had lost parents or siblings to Voldemort? How many were dead themselves now, cut down for no good reason?

Why should he feel even remotely guilty at the idea of walking in to a cell where a body lay unconscious and ending a life? Unconscious or not, helpless or not, it was Voldemort.

He sighed deeply and stared out at the stone wall.

If nothing else, tomorrow it would all be over.


	8. Deeds

The Department of Mysteries was less confusing with an Unspeakable leading them. Harry couldn't help a shudder as he looked around the room of doors. The fight there years ago was stamped in his memory. They were nothing but children then, losing their way, panicked and frustrated and scared to death as one by one they fell.

Losing Sirius.

He had to shake the thoughts away as he followed their guide, a man who called himself Dom. He looked like he might have been a friend to Dung - scruffy, smelling like smoke and walking with a shuffle. Disreputable, the Dursleys would have called him.

As they walked, whether to distract Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Remus from their surroundings or just out of a desire to be social, he chattered. "Think you'll get another one today?" He nodded at the scar.

Harry hadn't thought about it. "I hope not. Maybe this one will go away."

"Let you fade into obscurity, eh?"

"Something like that."

"What's wrong, kid? Not fond of the spotlight?"

Harry smiled wryly. "It hasn't been a friend to me through the years."

"No? You're lucky. Obscurity isn't as nice as you might think."

"You know, Mr..."

"Dom," he threw back at Remus.

Remus smiled tightly, moving up to join their guide and Harry. "You look familiar to me."

Dom grinned. "Got that look, I expect. Maybe you passed me on the street sometime, mate."

"Well, wherever it's from...please don't think me rude, but I'm sure Harry is trying to concentrate on the deed ahead."

Harry glanced at him. "It's okay, Remus. The less I think about it the happier I am, actually. "

There was a protective look in Remus's eyes, but at Harry's words he shrugged and smiled again. "My apologies."

Harry turned back to Dom. "Trust me when I say, the spotlight is never a good thing."

"Can be," Dom answered, glancing over. His eyes were clear and sharp.

"You must not have read the things the newspapers like to print about me."

Dom laughed, a gruff sound, leading them through a door then bringing them all to a halt. He turned and led them back through the same door to reveal a new corridor. "Long time ago they laughed at you. Must have been annoying, that."

"He was eleven years old when that began," came a sharp answer from Hermione, walking behind them but obviously listening to every word.

"And I'll bet getting bad press wasn't his biggest worry, now was it?"

"Between You Know Who and everyone else trying to kill him? Guess not at that." Ron now, casual but still protective.

"That's the past, laddie. Fuck does it matter now?"

"What business is it of yours, telling Harry what he ought to be grateful for when you don't even know him?" was Ron's answer.

"What're you gonna do now? Once that Thing in there is dead?" Dom's eyes returned to Harry.

Harry frowned, the warmth of anger beginning to grow in his gut. "What business is it of yours?" He repeated Ron's words, tone sharp.

Dom shrugged. "None at all, obviously."

" i Dom /i , if there's something you're wanting to say just say it. We all have a lot on our minds today and frankly we could do without your input," Hermione said.

Dom didn't look away from Harry. "You could make a difference, you know."

"I think he's already made-"

Harry raised a hand to cut off Ron's retort. He stopped in his tracks and glared at the man. "You could mind your own bloody business."

Dom kept moving, onviously unconcerned. Harry cursed under his breath and followed.

"Look, mate, there's a lot of people who can't speak up and help themselves. There's a lot more evil in the world than just You Know Who."

"And it's on my shoulders to deal with all of it, is that it?"

"If you're the one they're listening to right now, then yeah."

Harry blew out a breath. He really, really didn't need this right now. "You have no idea."

"Know what I'd do in your shoes, though. Kill that monster in there and then set out stomping any other monsters I could find. Cause I've met a lot of people who can't do it themselves, and no matter how long the papers been writing about you and the Dark Lord's been tailing your steps, they got it a hundred times worse."

"You can just stop there." Ron moved past Remus and Harry, putting himself in front of Dom. "He's done a bloody sight more than most people would, and he's given up more than you know helping out this bloody world. He doesn't have anything to earn or anything to prove. Especially not to some ruddy strange git like you who just met him five seconds ago."

"Right you are," Dom replied, shrugging and moving them forward.

Ron huffed out a breath and looked at Harry. "He doesn't know. He's an idiot."

Harry could agree with that easily enough.

Fortunately the man didn't speak again until they finally stopped. It felt like they had walked miles, turning random corners and backtracking so often Harry was impressed. How much of Unspeakable training was simply learning the hallways?

Dom stopped at a spot that might have been random from what Harry could tell. He shot Harry a sharp grin and walked right into the wall in front of them. It swallowed him like mist, revealing that it was a facade.

Harry drew in a breath and followed. The illusion parted around him. The real wall was a few feet deeper, and two men stood flanking a plain, painted door. The door, Harry saw with something like amusement, had a crude drawing of a house elf on it. To throw off anyone who might have made it this far? He supposed it was more subtle than a Dark Mark, anyway.

Dom nodded at the men, then flashed a thin-lipped grin at the group. As if he'd been the most amiable host he could. "This is where I leave you, then. Good luck, mate. Hope you don't die much more than you're already planning to."

Remus, reaching his limit, opened his mouth to snap. But with two forward steps Dom moved through the wall glamour and vanished.

"Git," Ron muttered.

"I've seen him somewhere," Remus said, looking at the wall where he had vanished. He shook his head and nodded at Harry. "Take all the time you need. He's right inside?" That to the guards.

"That he is, sir." This Unspeakable at least seemed tense. Eyes went to Harry and then pulled away fast more than once. "Sleeping like a baby. You can go in whenever you want."

Harry looked over his small group of friends. "Give me a minute."

Remus touched him on the arm, then drew Ron and Hermione away a few steps.

Harry breathed in. This was it. He would be a killer in a minute. A cold-blooded murderer who pointed a wand at a helpless life and snuffed it out.

He had killed before. One person. One person whose wand had been aimed, whose mouth was forming the '_kedavra_' part of the curse meant to kill Harry. He hadn't felt more than a little guilt over that.

This felt different.

But, worries and doubts aside, he had no choice but to do what he was there to do. Albus expected it. The entire wizarding world expected it. His friends saddled him with their expectations, and...well, popular opinion aside, it was his Prophecy. His point. His entire reason for being born.

He pulled out his wand. It would be easy, he told himself. Walk into the room. Voldemort would be lying there. Speak two words and then walk out again. The same person, Ron said. Still him, only with one more thing, and one less thing, plaguing his dreams at night.

He wouldn't even have to watch, really. Just find Voldemort, point, and close his eyes.

He turned and moved quickly. His body seemed to realize his head wouldn't be going along with this for long, and it answered accordingly. He didn't look at anyone, even when they all fell silent and turned to look at him. He walked past the guards, opened the door, and walked inside.

Voldemort lay there. Sleeping.

Anticlimactic.

Harry shut his eyes, aimed his wand, and thought about his parents.

"_Avada kedavra,_" he spoke, voice steady.

His world was green. Then his world was black.


	9. Failure

The cauldron simmered, thick and brown, a bubble rising to the surface only to break and be replaced by another.

Snape stood poised, a pinch of powdered bloodroot held between waiting fingers over the surface of the potion.

Familiar, this potion, but difficult. It had taken him months to perfect. There were still advances that could be made, but he had been restricted in Ireland.

As he watched, the bubbles began to thicken. The steam went a shade darker.

Snape stood absolutely still. There wasn't a shift of foot nor hand, not a rustle of sleeve. His breathing was steady and even. A good deal of it was simply concentration; a lot of it was paranoia. The air around him was as still as he was - the thick slurp of the potion was the only sound, and he would have detected even the lightest footstep.

Then, there, right on time, a bubble sank back into the surface without popping.

A glimmer of satisfaction went through him as he watched his fingers open and the bloodroot powder fall to the surface. Where it hit the potion immediately turned slate gray.

He lifted his ladle and stirred clockwise through the potion, slow and evenly paced. Almost done, and right on schedule.

Once, twice, again and again he stirred. Methodical, like everything he did. Predictable, as so little in his life was.

And useful. Valuable. Most of his potions were, of course. That was one advantage to not teaching. He no longer had to put up with making a dozen headache draughts or acne remedies for Pomfrey, or teach some dunderheaded room full of students how to properly stir a cauldron.

This was an art, not a school subject. It was an act of creation, of making something wholly extraordinary out of the most ordinary ingredients. None of those brats had ever understood. They were so excited about charms and transfigurations, not understanding that everything that could be done with a wand and a clumsy hand gesture or word could be done with a drop of draught. Levitations, transfigurations, everything children found so amazing, all could be performed with a cauldron and some ingredients, if the correct science was applied and the proper technique was followed.

Those damned irritating Weasley twins had come closer to understanding than most. They had formulated temporary transfiguration potions and found ways to insert them into candies for their absurd joke shoppe. Canary cremes. Ingenius, actually. Snape would never admit it but he had confiscated more than one and studied it to formulate which route the twins had stumbled across to make it possible.

Had they applied themselves they could have been brilliant. But they were happier left to their jokes and their pranks. Potential unrealized.

The potion burbled under his watchful gaze. He sighed and sat back, letting his dipper rest against the side of the cauldron. It would need to be left now, twenty minutes on the dot, and then it would be ready.

He dragged his eyes from the brew and gazed around his laboratory with speculative eyes. Things were back to how he had left them - it hadn't taken him long. He had an exact memory for how the room had been laid out, and had been motivated to correct it quickly.

His arm gave a twinge. He rubbed absently and ignored it. A common complaint now, and one that was dulled under such a strong draught that it was nothing but numbness.

Seamus was right when he said that Snape wouldn't be happy until he was done with it. The only way to free himself was to see the Dark Lord destroyed, and so he was in a sense glad to have remained. They would need him in the end, though none of them realized it yet.

Potter had already gone to the Ministry, so the revelation would come soon enough.

He wondered how much Albus knew. There was no way of knowing, but surely he was smart enough to realize that i _avada kedavra /i _would be completely useless. From the wand of Potter it would simply hurt them both, and from anyone else it would backfire entirely.

He rose from his stool as his arm gave a deeper twinge,and only had time to grimace before that twinge became a roar, a fire the likes he hadn't felt before, not even before he found the potion that would cancel the pain. His knees buckled, his mouth opened in a scream, and the world went green before going black.

Harry was aware of a few random flashes.

Pomfrey, effecient as always, staring down at him. Albus now and then, grave but not fearful.

Ron and Hermione came and went. Remus sat there most of the time, hovering over shoulders and sitting in the distance.

He wasn't sure what happened. He remembered green, and he remembered some man lecturing him about doing something with his life.

He didn't try too hard to remember, though. He was more than satisfied to float in blackness and look up now and then at familiar faces.

Percy Weasley came at one point, then left. Seamus.

But the fuzziness he was content to float in faded in time.

Albus's voice, calm and low, was the first thing he was truly conscious of. "But I think we should wait to discuss it so that everyone might hear, Harry included."

"Then Severus was right." That was Remus.

"Yes, though I had hoped not."

"'s everybody okay?" Harry frowned at the slurred sound of his voice and cleared his throat.

The faces that had popped into his vision one at a time swarmed around him now in a great hulk.

"How're you feeling, Harry?"

Harry grimaced at Remus. "Heavy."

Remus frowned.

Harry tried to raise an arm, but it felt like it weighed ten times more than usual, and his muscles just weren't up for the challenge.

Remus's eyes went to Albus.

"It will pass. Poppy has given you something to relax you. Now that you're awake it will diminish quickly."

"What happened?" That was Ron, eyes narrow in concern.

Harry shook his head. His memory was returning as slowly as his ability to move. "Everyone alright?" he asked again.

Remus and Ron exchanged looks.

"What?"

"Severus is hurt," Remus responded.

Ron snorted.

"What?" Snape hadn't even been there, and his health was pretty low on Harry's list of current concerns.

He sat up slowly and with help from Remus. His memory had filtered back, and he turned dark eyes to Albus. "I suppose I failed, then."

"No, my boy. It was us who failed you. I knew better than to think that achieving Lord Voldemort's death would be so easy, but I was as hopeful as the rest of the wizarding world."

Harry sagged. "So what now?Are they done with me?"

"No. I'm afraid you've got a ways to go yet."

"But it didn't work. I can't kill him." Harry's protest was token, and it came out as half-hearted as it felt. He knew before he said it that it wasn't good enough to save him.

"Not the way you attempted to today."

Harry's lips thinned and he looked around at his visitors. Ron and Hermione, Remus and Albus. His family.

On a bed on the other side of the wing, a few rows down, lay a person. Harry could guess who it was even without Seamus sitting there. "What's wrong with him, then?"

"A situation we didn't expect," Remus said. "The Ministry and guards at Azkaban confirmed it: every Death Eater we have in custody collapsed at the exact moment you cursed Voldemort."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

Albus answered. "A symptom of the Dark Mark, it can be assumed. There is a great deal we don't understand about the Mark and how it connects Voldemort to his foot soldiers, but this hints at a deeper connection than we believed. "

"We'll sort it out, Harry." Hermione touched his arm in some sort of comfort. "Just rest."

Snape opened fuzzy eyes and immediately groped for his wand. He wasn't in his bed, which was all the confirmation he needed that something was wrong. His limbs felt heavy but he could tell his wand wasn't there.

He forced his eyes open further and commanded his vision to clear.

"Severus."

A voice, light and flavored with an Irish accent.

He relaxed, squinting to find Seamus.

"It's alright. You're safe enough."

"Happened?"

"We don't know yet. I found you in your lab." There was a slight waver. A gentle grip appeared on Snape's forearm. "Your potion scalded."

He could pick Seamus from the drapes now, and swallowed when he saw how pale the boy was. He moved to sit up, ignoring the screaming protest of his aching body. "Pomfrey doesn't mean to keep me here, surely."

Seamus relaxed, but his brow stayed furrowed. "It's something to do with Harry and You Know Who," he said, leaning in and glancing beyond Snape. "They brought Harry back hours ago. They tried to summon you, and when I went to see why you hadn't come..."

Snape couldn't detect anyone else nearby. Surely Potter and the others were there somewhere, if his guess about today was right. But they weren't interested in Snape, which was enough to make him relax.

"It's nothing serious. I imagine I simply passed out." He had no idea, of course. Worse, he had a guess that was more serious than he let on.

But it was worth the lie to see Seamus smile again. "Do you remember anything?"

"No," he replied, sitting himself up further. He ached as if he had overworked every last muscle in his body for hours longer than he could tolerate. His chest screamed as he straightened.

He glanced over to where Seamus had looked before. Potter sat in a bed, surrounded by his adoring fans.

Seamus took his hand, lacing fingers in with his. Snape could feel a tremble in his hand. "I'll thank you not to do that again. Ever."

No one was paying them the slightest bit of attention, so Snape reached out and touched a pale cheek. "Relax. That was your potion I scalded. You need to take it easy until I can make another."

Seamus smiled, and spots of color reappeared in his cheeks. "I'd feel better if I could crawl into this bed with you." He sighed. "Do you feel alright, at least?"

"Tired," Snape admitted, and that was as close to the truth as he would come. "I need to talk to Albus. Now that they've failed they'll be plotting again. As incorrectly as they did this time."

"He's busy with Harry. Just rest for a while." Seamus shifted to stand. "I'll let them know you're awake."

"No. Sod them. I can talk to him later." Snape's hand came down to grip Seamus's arm.

Seamus settled back down. "Right then. I'll just keep you company here until you've got the strength to tell me to take my silly stories elsewhere." He grinned. "Do you know, today when I was walking around the castle I found some initials Dean and I had carved into the stone in a corridor our first year here.We were hopelessly lost and telling ourselves the search parties needed a way to find us. Our little initials and an arrow pointing left."

Snape sat back against the wall, shoulders slumping as the boy jabbered on. Something like a smile crossed his face.


	10. Dinner

_Quick author's note - Thanks to all my reviewers so far. Mostly that means you, Jen, though I've gotten a couple more now.  
More specifically, to Jen - yeah, I wondered if anger was the way to go with Harry, but he never really wanted to murder anyone anyway, so I think he's just hoping it's over.  
To Barbarataku - Thanks? Um. I can't figure out if that's good or bad, or if you think my Snape's wildly OOC. But thanks either way.  
To Silverthreads - Heh. Course it's not that easy. The only suckers who think it would be are...the characters in the story. Heh.  
And Logoreo - Merci beaucoup, et ne vous inquiétez pas. Votre anglais est beau._

"Tomorrow?"

Harry nodded grimly.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

"Bloody hell. Doesn't believe in a day off, does he?" Ron sighed and threw himself back on Harry's bed.

"Ron." Hermione smacked his arm, sitting more demurely beside him. "This is important. It needs to be resolved. The more time Voldemort is in custody the more of a chance there is that he'll escape."

"So? Harry's obviously not the person meant to kill him, so why make him sit through any more of this? Trelawney bolluxed something up, as usual, and everyone's made his life hell because of it."

"Honestly, Ron. It's not as simple as all that. Of i course /i Harry's the one meant to kill him, but obviously using the killing curse isn't the way to do it."

Harry stared at the ceiling, hands folded under his head, and wondered what would happen if he just said no. For once in his life.

"There's something else. Something in the magic Voldemort studied to keep himself alive, or something in the blood between he and Harry. It's just a matter of finding it."

"Well, if anyone can, genius..."

Harry tilted his head over at them, seeing Ron chucking Hermione on the arm, a dopey smile on his face. The Couple Smile, Harry had dubbed it.

Hermione blushed and grinned back.

Harry smiled wryly and looked back up at the ceiling.

There was a thump from the door, jerking all of their attention. Tension rose like a sudden cloud of smoke. Someone was trying to get in.

Harry drew his wand, standing and going to the door. "Ready?" A glance at his friends revealed wands in their hands and grim looks on their faces.

He muttered the words to unlock the door and threw it open, wand shooting out.

Right into the astonished face of Seamus Finnigan.

Harry's wand tilted back instantly. "Oh. Right. Hullo, Seamus."

Round green eyes locked on him, then took in Ron and Hermione. "Well. Hello then."

Ron laughed, cheeks red, tucking his wand back into his pocket. "Sorry about that, mate. We don't take surprise visitors well."

Seamus recovered his decorum, smiling. "Of course not. We only have a dinner date and this is only our old dorm room. Why on earth would you be expecting me?"

Harry felt his cheeks warm. "Guess we forgot about dinner."

"Yeah. What with Harry being in hospital all day and everything."

Seamus grinned. "All the more reason. Now come on. We can get the house elves to bring something to the common room."

Hermione frowned, and there came another of her patented faces. The Spew face, Harry thought of it as secretly.

"Seamus, we can take care of "

But Seamus was already out the door, going down the stairs.

Harry shrugged at Hermione. "We'd better go if you want to lecture him properly."

Down in the common room they found Seamus crouched down in conversation with an unfamiliar house elf. He was practically beaming, and the elf was chattering enthusiastically. Around them more elves appeared with trays, and one transfigured a small table into a dining area large enough for four.

"Seamus!" Hermione moved past Harry and barrelled down the stairs, as if to catch him before he could make them do another moment of work.

Seamus turned to her with a grin. "Hermione, you must know Poddy!"

The house elf he was speaking to glanced at Harry and his friends as they came in, and when he saw Hermione his face darkened and his ears went flat. "Oh, no, Seamus Finnigan. Poddy is not knowing that one. That one is setting us free and making us accept wages. Poor Dobby is still...still..." He swallowed, looking around with wide crystal ball eyes. "On vacation," he whispered, pressing an ear flat in obvious horror.

Seamus gaped at Hermione. "You set them free?"

Hermione was looking at him in equal shock. "You know the house elves?"

He straightened, patting Poddy as he rose to the elf's delight. "I do. Or, did." His cheeks went pink and he glanced at Harry. "Fifth year...I spent a lot of time on my own. I went to the kitchens to get meals and things sometimes."

Harry remembered. Seamus and his foolish mother, and the fighting between them that lasted most of the year. It pained him now, because that was the last year he had known Seamus, and he said goodbye to him that summer still holding a grudge.

"If you claim to be their friend how can you make them work for you?" Hermione demanded, nice enough to pull Harry out of those memories.

Seamus blinked. "It's what they do, isn't it?"

Poddy muttered a confirmation and moved off to help the others.

"It's i slavery /i !" Hermione's eyes flashed.

Ron moved in close to Harry with a sigh. "Bloody hell."

"It's what they've been i _told /i _and i _taught /i _and i _trained /i _to do. It's abhorrent. I would have thought better of you."

Seamus laughed in surprise. "Don't go thinking better of me than to do anything, Hermione. I can't believe they haven't talked you out of this yet. How long have you been working on these poor elves, tricking them and lecturing them and all?"

Hermione sputtered, looking to Ron for support that wasn't coming.

Seamus moved to the table the elves had set up. "We may as well enjoy it as long as it's here," he said with a look at Ron and Harry. "You know, there's a saying back home that you hear some of the old folk saying when they don't understand the ways of the world these days. 'Tis what 'tis."

Hermione movied to the table in front of Harry. He followed her, Ron at his side. "What does that mean?"

"It means...well, that you don't really have to understand why something is the way it is. A snake will attack because that's what it does. It's a predator. You don't have to like it, and you don't have to think that's the way it should be. It just is what it is. Predators kill however much you lecture them against it. I think the house elves are the same. If it's their nature you can't deny it. Setting them free is like putting a snake in a cage; it only stops it from being able to follow its instincts. It doesn't change what it is."

Poddy was the last house elf to leave. He tugged at the leg of Seamus's slacks with a wide, stretched house elf smile. "Seamus Finnigan can be asking Poddy for anything."

Seamus grinned at him as he vanished from view with a pop. He looked back at Hermione. "I know you're smarter than I am, and you've been working hard at this for a long time. I just...see things differently, I guess."

Hermione's face was red, but she didn't answer.

Ron nudged Harry, eyebrows raised. Harry shrugged. He'd stopped taking sides on the SPEW debate years ago. He had too many other battles to fight.

"Er. Right. Anyway." Ron grabbed for a tray of potatoes.

"Right." Harry took a platter piled high with corned beef and heaped it onto his plate.

Snape paced back and forth in his large sitting room, alternating glares at the door with glares towards the empty bedroom.

What were they filling his head with? What were they laughing at him about, and making him feel bad for? What were they telling him?

The truth, probably. That he deserved better. That Severus Snape was nothing but a bitter old man who would never be as young or as nice as Seamus deserved. That he was evil and had been evil for years.

Seamus knew all that already, but sometimes all it took was seeing through the eyes of an outsider, expecially a friend, and it made everything clearer.

Seamus had never taken his warnings of his past seriously. He had never understood that the Mark on his arm meant he had killed and tortured and enjoyed it.

They would change that tonight, if they could.Bloody i children /i . Laughing at Snape. Speculating on things they couldn't know about, making judgements they had no right to make. Confronting Seamus with their 'truth' that Snape couldn't be worth a sickle, because he had once been a bad, bad man.

The ironic thing was that Snape used to believe that himself. It had taken Seamus to begin his mind changing.

Bloody sodding _fuck_.

There was a knock on the door and he bolted to it faster than he cared to think about.

He opened the door and fixed cold eyes on...Remus Lupin.

He blinked in surprise. "What?"

Remus cleared his throat quietly. "Is your...er. Your i ward /i present?"

"No." The word came out more cross than Snape cared for. "He's playing with his friends."

Lupin lifted his hand. It held a bottle, a truly surprising bottle. "In that case, I've brought a peace offering. "

Snape's eyebrow rose. Absinthe. Wry amusement went through him, sending a smirk to his face. "I could spend an hour reciting the many ways the wormwood in that bottle would do us more harm than we can afford."

Lupin smiled, irritating in his knowingness. "That was a yes, yes?"

A drink with an old comrade in arms, even one as incredibly annoying as Lupin, wouldn't be unwelcome. It would fill the silence and keep him from further useless speculation about what was going on in another room of the castle.

But not in his quarters. His sanctuary.

He stepped out instead, shutting the door behind him. "There are glasses in my office," he said, moving past Lupin and starting down the hall.

"You gonna give, mate?"

Seamus sipped at his butterbeer. "Give what?"

"You know what. What happened? Why'd you die, and when you were resurrected why the bleeding fuck did you decide to spend your second chance with Severus greasy git arsehole-of-the-universe Snape?"

Seamus laughed, but something flashed in his eyes. "I didn't die. I know that's a great shock to you, but I didn't."

"So what happened?" Harry asked, more curious the more butterbeer he drank. Mostly about the Snape part of the question, he had to admit.

Seamus shrugged. "We were attacked. We lived in Roonah Quay, right by the water, and I'd been off by the shore watching the clouds coming in." His voice lilted more than usual. "I saw four of them go in, and three come out. I think mam took one of them with her." His near-constant smile faded. "You remember me telling you about home? Maybe you don't. We weren't rich. Da worked on the water, and mam was very religious about her magic. I mean, she was religious, and it passed to her magic. She didn't use it to better us more than we needed to survive. Arrogance, she thought it. Or greed. A sin, either way."

Harry studied him, seeing suddenly all the ways he had gotten older. His face seemed thinner and more pale than the boy Harry remembered, and his hands trembled minutely.

"Our house was a hut, not much more. The thatching on the roof made it burn fast, and I could hardly even call out before it was nearly gone. I had to run when the Death Eaters came out. I don't know if they realized I belonged in that house or if they thought I was just a witness, but they chased me."

He hesitated, and the room around him was silent save the flicker of the fire.

"I don't know how I survived, really. My wand was in the house, destroyed. I didn't know any charms or spells to hide myself, and if I did I was never good enough at magic to fool real Death Eaters. " He sighed and looked up, and Harry marveled at how every emotion in Seamus's head was right there on his face to be examined.

"At any rate, they passed me by with only the smallest rocks between me and them." He smiled faintly. "Mam would have called it a miracle before she'd have called it magic."

"His family was murdered. They found three bodies and assumed he was dead too. That is, the few wizards who bothered to investigate."

"There were a great deal of attacks that summer," Remus reminded him.

"Right. Which means Merlin only knows how many children like Seamus there are out there." Snape glared at his visitor.

"It was a mistake. But accidental."

"Sod accidental. It was clumsy and foolish."

"He was my student once, Severus. If anyone had suspected he were alive somewhere..."

"Of course." Snape meant the retort to be snide, but it was soft enough to make him angry at himself.

"What did he do, then?" Remus asked after a moment.

"Made my way to Dublin. My mam had Muggle brothers up there, but when I got there they'd been thrown into prison. They were IRA, I think. And there I was, so...I did what I had to. I got a job and scraped by." Seamus shrugged, smiling though his face seemed drawn. "Never stopped waiting for an owl to peck at the window, either."

Harry frowned. "That must have been hard." He had known it the other way around - grown up abandoned and then adopted by a new world.

"It was." Seamus looked at Harry. "When I was feeling truly petty I thought it was your fault."

"Mine?" Harry straightened.

"I thought, I'll bet Harry is still sore with me and is glad I'm gone, and nobody will bother to look for me because they want him to be happy. It was horrible of me to think it, but...well, I was being petty, wasn't I?"

Harry frowned.

Ron cleared his throat. "So. Now the big question - how in Merlin's bearded balls did Snape find you?"

Snape stopped then, setting his glass on his desk hard. "It doesn't matter. I found him."

Remus looked taken aback for a moment, then lofted his drink and tilted it in a sort of toast.

Snape met his eyes and saw his acceptance of the story's end, and felt a flash of gratitude.

He took up his glass again and looked away. Remus let it die. What was the chance others would be so forgiving? He wondered whether Seamus was telling Potter and his friends the story even then.

His eyes caught on a small bottle of powdered bloodroot, and he nearly tripped over his own feet standing and moving around the desk. "Bloody i hell /i , I'll be right back."

"Alright, forget how. What are you doing with him now? He didn't adopt you or something, did he?"

Seamus nearly choked on his drink. He laughed as he coughed. "No! He didn't adopt me."

"But. You're in his room, aren't you? And you were with him before, when he got the message to come here?" Hermione leaned in, curious gaze on Seamus.

Harry's eyes went wide as she spoke. No, of course they weren't some sort of father and son. If Snape had ever had the first paternal feeling towards anyone he would have been shocked.

But what that left was even more wrong and impossible to comprehend.

Ron turned dark red suddenly. "Oi," he muttered, staring at Seamus. "You've got to be kidding me."

Seamus grinned, looking relieved they had pieced it together. "Not at all."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she looked from one to the other of them.

Harry gaped at Seamus. "But... i _why /i ? How?_"

A light laugh. "Don't tell me you don't know the mechanics, Harry."

He blushed. "No! I don't know the mechanics of anything involving i _Snape /i ._"

"Well, granted we're not exactly a run-of-the-mill couple, but-"

"Couple?" Hermione flushed, but her expression screwed up as if Seamus were suddenly a much more interesting form of study than he had been before. "You don't mean."

"He does," Ron replied, sick fascination in his voice.

"And that's all I've got to say on the subject, actually." Seamus grinned and reached for a meat pasty.

Poddy popped into being beside Seamus's chair. "Seamus Finnigan, Mister Snape is looking for you." Distressed, the elf's voice was higher than usual.

Seamus stood. "Where is he?"

"Coming this way! He is having a potion in his hand."

Seamus's face lost color instantly. He pushed away from the table and moved to the door without even a word to them. He looked suddenly more drawn than he had when remembering his parents' deaths minutes ago.

Harry frowned and exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione. They stayed silent, trying to hear what was going on. The door hung open, and a low voice sounded from outside, unintelligible.

Harry stood without thought and moved towards the portrait hole. It was definitely Snape's voice.

But before he could make out words, the voice stopped and brisk footsteps moved away down the corridor.

Harry darted back to his seat and sat just as Seamus returned. He was wiping his mouth, pale and trembling. But he smiled at them, and it came over him like a mask.

"Right. Sorry about that."

Harry exchanged dark glances with Hermione, wondering suddenly if there wasn't something more between Snape and Seamus than their old friend was letting on.


	11. Discussion

"The trouble with the entire matter is that he's not safe where he is. I'd be happy just to let the creature rot in his cell, but let's face it - even in the Department of Mysteries he's still under Ministry control. Merlin knows they don't do anything right."

"That's you you're talking about too, Kingsley."

"Bite your tongue."

Kingsley and Remus exchanged brief grins, but the air stayed tense.

"The real trouble is none of us in this room have a bloody clue what to do now that Plan A failed." Tonks punched Kingsley in the shoulder, extending her arm by few inches to reach him. The effect was disconcerting. "If they had the aurors on You Know Who he'd never get out."

Snape snorted.

He was ignored.

"Voldemort is still alive. That in itself is more than enough trouble for us to deal with - let's not bring ourselves more."

"Albus." Kingsley again, but more serious. "Do we know why it didn't work?"

"Not entirely."

Another snort from Snape.

"Then how do we know what to do differently?" Tonks again.

"Voldemort will have to be dealt with as soon as possible, it's true. But for now he is quite safe where he is. The few remaining Death Eaters will gather their strength and determine his location, but we have the luxury of a few days of study, at least. We can determine what went wrong and how to correct it."

"Or you could stop wasting time and ask the one person in this room that knows the Dark Lord better than Albus."

Harry watched with detached amusement as the Order collectively took a moment to acknowledge that they heard Snape's words, then as one organism made the choice to completely ignore the man.

"Really, with You Know Who how he is now, Harry could just go in and lob curses at him until he found the one that worked, couldn't he?" Ron looked around, hesitant as always when speaking up in front of the entire Order.

"Ron. Honestly." Hermione sighed, long suffering, and Ron turned red. "What makes you think every curse he tried wouldn't recoil and hurt him the way the last one did?"

Ron shrugged, dropping his eyes.

Harry looked around the room, waiting for someone else to speak up. Because he himself was a blank, and was unwilling to strain himself coming up with more ways to do something he didn't want to do in the first place.

"I must say I am disappointed in every person in this room." Albus sat up suddenly behind his desk, looking around with sharp eyes. "Severus. Please, share your thoughts with us."

Harry felt a moment of betrayal as he looked at Albus, but he turned to Snape resentfully.

Snape was bolt upright in his chair, a contrast to the various slumps and slouches around the room. He looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"I'm not going to beg for a bloody audience, Albus."

"Severus."

"Fine." He stood up, pacing towards Albus's desk. "You want to know why the curse didn't work. One, because it was an idiot idea that never should have been tried. Two, because the Dark Lord is for all practical purposes made of pure dark magic. He is more than human. He has been reinforced with more magic than most of you know exists. You do not stop a solid mass of dark magic by throwing dark curses at it. Especially dark curses that only work from dark intentions. All it does it direct more black energy into him."

Harry frowned. "He can still die. The curse should have killed him."

Snape glared at him, and Harry couldn't help but feel suddenly like he was twelve years old and answering quiz questions wrong in class. "No. In the way you think about it, he can't die. All the old magic he's absorbed - the unicorn's blood, the immortality charms - were all transferred into this newer body of his. You can't simply knock him off a tower and hope he splatters on the bloody ground, Potter."

"But Harry has to kill him. That's the Prophecy."

Snape snorted, ugly, at the word.

Remus went on, mild but firm. "There was never a chance for Harry to stop him before he created another body for himself. The Prophecy would have foreseen that, yet still maintains either can die at the other's hands."

"The Prophecy obviously has a much higher opinion of Potter than I do," Snape muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't speak.

"The Prophecy has created as many complications as the Dark Lord could ever have hoped for. In the attack on Potter as an infant a link was established between the two of them. Lily Evans performed powerful blood magic on Potter. If he is in the presence of one who has the same blood as his mother inside them, he is safe. "

Harry sat up, frowning. Beside him Hermione suddenly breathed in, her face losing color.

Snape glanced at her and gave a small, sharp nod. "I see some of you aren't as thick as the rest. Granger has finally stumbled over the biggest complication yet."

She nodded, a hand rising to her mouth. Her eyes went to Harry.

"Care to let us in on it, or are you going to keep it between the geniuses?" Tonks frowned from one to the other.

"Voldemort used Harry's blood to form his new body," Hermione answered softly.

Snape nodded. "The blood of Lily Evans is in the Dark Lord's veins. Which means that while the spell trying to damage him is weaker than the blood magic protecting him, Harry Potter will never be able to kill him. And as we all learned when Potter was an infant, the killing curse isn't stronger than the blood magic. If it was he would have died then."

"Bloody hell." Ron scratched at the back of his neck, looking around the room. "Then Harry can't be the one to kill him?"

"Harry has to be the one to kill him," Albus replied.

"How the bloody hell does that work?" asked Tonks.

"Simple," Snape answered. "Potter has to learn a stronger form of magic than the spell in his blood."

"Blood magic is ancient. It goes back to Merlin, and before. Is there something stronger?" Hermione straightened in instant interest.

Snape's smug certainty faded for the first time and he shrugged. "I have no idea."

Harry stood up, needing suddenly for this useless meeting to come to an end before he exploded in anger at the unfairness of his life. "Right. A couple of days to discover and learn an unknown and surpremely powerful school of magic so I can kill that bastard before his Death Eaters play sleeping beauty and wake him up. Let's just get right on that."

"Harry-"

He ignored Remus, marching to the door and storming out.

The effectiveness of his exit was only slightly ruined by Tonks and Ron at the same time asking as he left, "What's sleeping beauty?"

Snape shut his door, closing out the tension of that meeting. He looked around his quarters - at least this place was unaffected, no matter what happened outside.

The door to the bedroom was open, which was something he would never have allowed years ago. Living with another person was something he was still getting used to at Hogwarts. He had been used to it in Ireland, because the house they lived in had never been just his. His quarters, though, had only been his alone.

He sighed and tried to shake off the stiffness in his muscles. He could still feel the looks of contempt from the Order, from Potter and his friends. As if Snape created the truth of what he spoke just by speaking it.

Absurd. The lot of them. But they had it now; the truth of it was spoken. They could do with it what they would. He was done trying to convince them. He was tired of being defensive every damned minute of every bloody day.

His rooms were peace from that, even if the peace was no longer solitary.

He moved through to the bedroom and found Seamus just where he expected - soaking in the tub. He smiled minutely. "I'm back."

No answer.

His smile vanished and he was at the tub in a flash. Seamus's eyes were shut and his face was white. Snape grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Seamus." He cast eyes around, wondering what best to do. Get a house elf to apparate him to the hospital wing or try to pull the boy onto the bed and figure out without their interfering help

"Oh." Green eyes opened, fuzzy but clearing up fast as they looked around. Seamus shifted and sat up, looking at Snape. "I fell asleep. It was too quiet in here." He smiled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Snape released him, straightened and let out a shaking breath.

"Severus." Seamus's grin vanished. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. I scared you."

"For a moment," he admitted, voice scratchy. He drew in a breath. Seamus was fine. Seamus fell asleep.

The water sloshed as Seamus sat up. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

There was a pause. "Come in."

"What?"

Seamus gestured at the water around him. "It's very relaxing. You look like you need it. It went as badly as you feared, didn't it?"

"Yes." Snape stared at the water for a moment, then began to undress himself. Perhaps a few minutes relaxing his muscles would be welcome. He had potions to brew, but his current stiffness might hurt his ability to focus.

The water was hot enough to steal his breath for a moment, but as he lowered himself in he sighed in something like bliss. His eyes shut and his head tilted back against the side of the stone tub. Warmth stole over him.

To be warm through and through, and relaxed, and safe, was the most luxurious feeling he had ever known.

Water shifted around him, and the solid warmth of a body appeared at his side. He didn't bother opening his eyes, and made a soft noise of pleasure as warm fingers threaded through his hair, running warm water through and rubbing his scalp in firm massage. He shifted as Seamus slid in behind him, moving to lean against the solid muscle of Seamus's chest rather than hard stone. Hands reappeared in his hair, massaging his scalp and temples with deft fingertips.

He breathed in, sighing air out slowly. "Thank you."

"Mmm." Seamus's hands vanished and reappeared through his arms and joining at his stomach under the water's surface. For a long time they sat in silence, soaking in warmth.

Snape could appreciate this in ways that almost pained him to think about. He thought back to his years teaching there, constantly being called away by the burn of his Mark. Or, worse, to his very first few weeks spent there. He came at the end of the leaving potion master's last term, and had spent the summer before his first term hiding, nursing scars and letting Albus weather the storm of complaint owls from parents and concerned members of the Ministry, or of society.

Snape couldn't teach there, those letters said. Because of his arm. Because of his Mark. Because despite Albus's faith in him, he was just another Death Eater.

Strange, that. How Lucius Malfoy could weather the storm and emerge with all his power and privilege intact, while Severus had _hidden_ with nothing left in the world, scarred inside and out in ways that would never fade.

His eyes opened and he looked down at himself. At the marks in his chest and arms. Scars left not by his years of service to the Dark Lord, but by the weeks of interrogations at the hands of aurors. At the end of a war the winning side could get away with anything, and no one had ever cared about the cruelty inflicted upon Snape and people like him. Some of them deserved it, perhaps. He didn't. He had already been spying for months, risking everything. But they wouldn't listen to him, and they wouldn't listen to Albus, and he went through their treatment like any other captured enemy.

His eyes shut again and his head lay back against Seamus.

He craved the solitude of these rooms, when he first arrived and every day after that. He had thought that after the horrors he witnessed and the tortures brought on him once the Dark Lord returned, the best thing he could ever hope for was just a place to get away, a room all his own with whatever superficial comforts he could fill it with.

He never considered having someone there, because the idea was absurd. It was obvious that Snape was a monster to everyone. Obvious too that he didn't have the patience to deal with any person willing to give him a chance.

Some luxuries in the world were so inconceivable that they became laughable, and then contemptible. Marriage and family? Ludicrous. Love? A lie for fools. Warm hands to stroke his muscles when he was tired, to invite him into a hot tub and look at him with concern instead of hatred, and fondness instead of resentment? Idiotic. Absolutely.

A soft voice in his ear that meant him no harm at all? He would have laughed at the idea and hated the one who suggested it.

He sat up, splashing the sides of the tub and turning where he sat, twisting so that he could face the boy behind him.

He had no idea why Seamus was there. He didn't know what about him could be of interest to Seamus, when all Seamus's old friends and teachers hated Snape with equal force.

If Seamus had a rebellious streak he could have believed it was that. Sheer childish defiance. But rebellious was the last thing Seamus was. He was sincere, and he cared a great deal for just about everything. But even the most caring people had never given Snape more than a glance.

He didn't understand. He wanted to, but he couldn't.

Seamus didn't look at him with tolerance, or bemused fondness. He looked at Snape the way Snape felt towards him - as if being there with him was a mystery he couldn't solve. He looked at Snape as if wondering why Snape was there with him.

Seamus met his gaze and allowed Severus to study him without questioning. He smiled, and it grew as the moments passed. If he was reading Snape's intent or his thoughts, Snape wouldn't have been surprised.

Seamus leaned in and slid a wet hand through Snape's hair, holding him in place for a light kiss. "I love you, too," he said quietly.

Snape believed him, which might have been the biggest miracle of all.


	12. Brainstorms

"This," Hermione said, sitting down and promptly getting lost behind the stack of books she had gathered, "is not going to be easy."

"You love it and you know it," Ron grumbled.

She peered around the stack of books, smiling. "Of course I do! Look at this! These books were never even in the restricted section. I don't know where Dumbledore got them from, but they're even more secret than secret. He must have had them hidden away in his office or something." She breathed deeply, inhaling the musty smell of old books with relish. "Even if we don't find the answers we're looking for, just imagine the sort of things we are going to find. The secrets we're going to learn."

Harry and Ron echanged glances. Ron rolled his eyes, but shrugged. "Guess it must be pretty special if they didn't even trust these books in the restricted section."

Harry sighed. "Brilliant. Whichever one's titled 'Secret Magic Needed to Vanquish a Ruddy Dark Lord,' pass it to me."

Hermione threw open her first book, leaning in so close her hair brushed the pages.

Ron tugged at a smaller book and opened it, but made a face and shut it again. "I can't read these. They're in Latin or something."

Harry squinted as he opened his own book. Not Latin, but not proper English. Some sort of Chaucer-speak. Brilliant.

Hermione's wand flashed from between her piles, and she spoke the low words of a translation charm, sounding irritated. The wand vanished again.

Ron went pink, but started flipping through the pages again.

"Think I need a charm for this one, too, and it's in English," Harry muttered to Ron, sharing his pain.

Ron smiled almost gratefully.

Harry went back to his reading, but flipped through when he realized it was going on about moon cycles. He skimmed the pages, then set the book aside. "You'd think if magic that powerful existed, everyone would know which sodding book it was written in."

"Oh, no," Hermione replied, earnest enough to forgive Harry his interruption. "I mean, blood magic like your mother performed is also incredibly powerful, but it's hardly written about anywhere. No one performs it much anymore, because..." She frowned. "Well, I suppose because they're lazy, or they don't really need it."

Ron snickered. "Right. Not like you need to intone the powers of blood and heart in order to get your stew pot to stir itself."

Harry grinned.

Hermione tutted. " i Anyway /i ," she said. "The old arts are mostly lost because magic's changed. It's as if we had to go back and find out how they created the wheel. It's so far back and so much simpler than our ways of thinking today that we have a hard time understanding it."

Harry shut his second book and put it to the side. Some fascinating tidbits about vampires in that one, but nothing that looked even remotely promising for killing a non-alive Dark Lord. "How much simpler can it get than what we've already got? You aim a wand and speak a word and magic happens."

"No, no." She shut her book and put it on top of his. "Old magic has an entirely different feeling to it. The philosophy behind it is more basic. Not simpler, more i basic /i . There's a difference."

Harry and Ron looked at her.

She sighed. "Listen. Back in the days of Merlin it wasn't like they used their magic to stir their stews or make feathers float. Back then it was a force of nature. The tales of Merlin are about making the stars move and the weather change, bringing on thunder and warding off death. Merlin didn't use wands or charms. He had his hands and his will, and that was all."

"So...we're looking for wandless magic?" Ron frowned.

She rolled her eyes. "No! Well, yes, but it's not that simple. Magic is...it's like the sun. It's i enormous /i and powerful. So much more than any one person can control. In the beginning the only wizards were those strong enough to harness its power without destroying themselves. People were born with the ability but never developed the strength. It took dicipline and control, and people studied for decades to learn the art. That's why I think wizards live so much longer than Muggles. They developed long life spans simply to be able to study what they needed to know."

"So what's different about it now? Any Crabbe or Goyle can pick up a wand and do a spell these days."

She shrugged. "Nasty side effect of specificity."

Ron blinked.

Harry dropped his chin in his hand, waiting.

"Alright." Hermione pushed her books away and looked from one to the other of them. "This is how I understand it, and from my talks with Dumbledore I'm pretty sure it's accurate."

"Course it's accurate, coming from you."

She grinned at Ron. "Right. Well. Going back to my sun analogy. Imagine you're around in the time of Merlin and for some reason there's one place where the sun doesn't shine. Imagine that someone's life depends on making the sun hit that one spot. And it has to be someone you care about, because great magic always came from great emotions."

Ron nodded, leaning in. "Right. "

"Magic was discovered in times like those. To save a life or to protect the wellfare of whole villages. At some point someone tried so hard and cared so much that he made the sun move. So to speak."

"Right." Ron grinned at Harry, pride in his eyes. For all their squabbles he loved watching her show off her brains.

Harry chuckled.

"Anyway, time went on and the few who could control this great power taught it to others born with the talent, and of course things progressed - or regressed, perhaps - as things always do. It became easier for later generations as it was discovered that harnassing through a medium, like a wand, made it more controllable. A wand is like a prism, in a way. Something as powerful as the sun can shine on it, and through control and proper alignment you can make simple beams of colored light. They're nowhere near the true energy of the sun, but they're under your control."

"Stirring the stew," Harry said, nudging Ron under the table.

She nodded. "Exactly. We are so used to filters andcharms that going back to controlling the full element of magic is nearly impossible. That's why, even though it's so powerful, so few people study it anymore."

Ron laughed, happiness in his eyes. Harry knew it was relief that he understood everything she had just said. "So Harry's just got to find a way to make the sun shine on You Know Who."

Hermione's mouth quirked, and she laughed. "In a sense, that's it exactly."

Harry moved down the hall, books in one hand and a furrow in his brow.

Ron had been so impressed with his girlfriend's genius that he'd managed to charm her out of her studies, and Harry felt it best to leave them to go do...whatever it was they did that he really preferred not to think about.

So it was off to the common room by the fire, to read and think about what Hermione had explained.

It felt too big. That was the problem. Even the way she had told it felt too big. Harness the sun? He didn't have any idea where to start, and he was pretty sure it took more than a few days to learn something like that.

She did have one bit of good news for him, though. _"Your mother obviously understood the old magic. She weaved blood spells over you, which takes some doing. You've got her blood in your veins. If she was close to it and capable of it, you'll be closer for it."_

So he had his mum to thank, really. For all of it. If she'd just been happy stirring the stew he would never have survived in the first place.

He turned a corner to go down the stairs, feeling the books weighing heavily in his hand. Reading had never been his strongest point. He got restless too easily, so practical lessons were always the way he learned best. But he had to try.

He couldn't help but wonder if anyone else realized how absurd this entire thing was.

Then again, the magical world had always prided itself on the absurd. Maybe it was fitting.

The stone corridors had a way of warping sounds, and as he moved forward two low voices came clearer than the rest. He realized it wasn't the chatter of portraits but of people. They might have been close or a half dozen turns down the corridor - Hogwarts was tricky that way.

"to know where the hell you were."

Snape. Harry recognized that voice instantly. Low and cold, always seething with bitterness and contempt.

Seamus's light Irish tone was easy to pick out as well. "Just a walk. I like the fresh air, it makes me feel more at home."

"It is bloody well freezing outside, and you can just stop that habit. You're not to walk outside. You're not to leave this castle without my permission."

Harry pulled to a stop, brow furrowed. The prickling sensations he got when Seamus and Snape were together returned full-blast. Snape sounded like his bloody father, or his...owner, or something.

"Alright, Severus." Seamus's answer was late, low.

"Now take this damned potion I've been carrying everywhere looking for you. It's going to be cold, and you can just suffer the taste."

"Severus, please."

" i Now/i "

Harry moved forward on silent feet, skilled enough thanks to years of battling Death Eaters to walk even through the hollow and reflective halls without a sound. He held his breath and peered around the corner.

There they were, just as he might have imagined them. Seamus looked pale and miserable, staring at a goblet in his hands as if it were poisonous.

Snape glared at him, and if there was any affection in him towards Seamus it didn't show on his face.

Harry swallowed, wondering if it was fear he saw in Seamus's eyes. Wondering suddenly for the first time if, more than simply being talked out of this mind-boggling strangeness of being with Severus Snape, Seamus instead needed to actually be saved from him.

Snape spoke again, quieter but no less demanding. "No one is taking you from me. Not even you. Now drink it, Finnigan."

Seamus swallowed, and the goblet trembled as he raised it.

Harry drew back around the corner and stared at the wall, blank, until their footsteps led them away and he was alone.


	13. Bad News

"Harry."

The low voice, a cross between amused and chiding, was exactly what he had expected to hear.

Harry crossed his arms, planted his feet and filled the doorway as much as his slight frame would allow. "Don't 'Harry' me. I know what I saw."

"Eavesdropping has never done anyone good."

"Funny, it's saved my life more than a few times. Dunno if you consider that good or not, but."

Remus tilted his head as he took Harry in, then he sighed and pushed a drawer of his desk open. Pulling out a clear bottle of deep amber liquid, he gestured at Harry. "Come in and sit at least. I don't like talking to you from across the room."

Harry glanced out the door, just to make sure there was no evil greasy vampire dwelling in the shadows listening to his accusations. Snape tended to hear things he shouldn't have been able to. He moved through the doorway and shut the door. "You're not going to ply me with liquor and try to talk down to me, are you?"

"Yes and no." Remus smiled. "I'm going to ply you with liquor and talk to you. I'm sure you'll decide whether I'm talking down to you or not. Harry...I don't know how much I should even bother to say. You know by now that Severus is not evil. He's not one of the people we're fighting. He is on our side. He has sacrificed a good deal to the Order, and frankly the fact that you would level an accusation like this is disappointing."

Harry winced, trying not to let that sting. "I know you think he's a bloody saint for some reason."

"I never said that."

"Fine. But you think he's good. I don't. If he was so good he wouldn't have left us to the fighting. He's probably only with us now because he knows we've won."

"Don't be cynical, Harry."

Harry's eyebrows went up.

Remus chuckled and poured a couple of fingers of amber into the two glasses he set on his desk. "Fine. Just tell me why you think he's holding Seamus prisoner."

"Because I heard them! I saw Seamus! Snape keeps plying him with some potion, and he doesn't want to take it. He was scared of Snape when I saw them, and Snape was sure trying his best to bully him. It was sick."

"Isn't there a chance you misinterpreted what you saw? Every time I've seen Seamus he looks rather overly cheerful."

"That's just Seamus. Anyway, this potion probably makes him think he's happy." Harry realized how that sounded and pinked. He grabbed his glass and sat back, holding it in both palms. "Whatever it is, it's not right."

Remus studied him.

Harry met his gaze. He knew what he had seen. He knew when someone was a victim of bullying and fright. He had seen it in Neville Longbottom's face every day for years thanks to Snape, and now he saw it in Seamus.

"I don't know why, alright? I don't know how they even ran into each other again. I know Snape's on our side, but isn't there a chance that he's still got some Death Eater in him? He did join Voldemort willingly, he admits that. He must have hurt people, and he must have enjoyed it. Even if he changed his mind he can't change that part of him." Harry spoke with complete sincerity. People who killed and hurt and got pleasure from it were evil. Simple as that.

Harry had been in his share of fights. He had been on the delivering end of pain, of death in one case. He knew that anyone who had been through a battle and wanted more had something wrong with them.

Snape relished hurting people. He liked making children cry. He liked that Neville was terrified, that so many people were terrified.

Something was wrong with him. And that something made him perfectly capable of holding Seamus against his will.

The only question in Harry's mind was what to do about it.

Remus sighed, as if he had read all those thoughts in Harry's mind and knew to surrender. "Will you promise me something?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Maybe."

Remus leaned in. "Talk to them. To Seamus at least. Before you do anything you might regret, talk to Seamus."

Harry wanted to argue - if Seamus were being controlled he wouldn't answer honestly, and what would be gained? But Remus seemed serious, and looked so tired sitting there that Harry found himself nodding. "Fine. Then will you help me?"

"Talk to him, or find some kind of proof. Then I'll take it to Albus."

Harry was on his way to hunt down Seamus and get some answers from him when a familiar house elf appeared in front of him, eyes so wide they looked a moment away from popping out of its head.

"Mr. Harry Potter! You is coming with me, please!"

Harry frowned. He was on a mission, damn it. "Where do I need to go?"

"To Dumbledore! He is wanting badly to see you."

Harry sighed but changed direction to head to Dumbledore's office. "What's going on?"

"Poddy is not knowing, sir. Poddy is seeing a strange man and is seeing Dumbledore acting very odd, sir!"

"Brilliant. What bloody crisis..." He moved faster though, as the house elf vanished.

A minute later he found Snape himself striding through the corridor ahead of him.

Harry sneered instantly and sped up. He just hoped his hatred showed on his face. "Wants to see you, too, does he? Can't imagine why."

"Because he has more sense than a spiteful child," came the retort. Snape didn't look at him, just moved faster. His long legs carried him ahead of Harry, who sped up again in sheer defiance.

"If it's something bad are you going to run and hide again?"

Snape scowled but didn't answer.

Harry was practically jogging to keep up. "Where's Seamus?" he asked, words sharp.

Snape stopped dead, wheeling back to glower at Harry. "He is resting," came the answer, low and so cold it nearly puffed like frost in front of him. "You will leave him alone."

"I doubt that," Harry answered, lifting his chin and moving ahead.

A familiar man sat in Dumbledore's office, grinning at Harry as he came in. "Oi, hero. Nice to see you again."

Harry stopped, recognizing the odd, scruffy guide from the Department of Mysteries. He moved further into the office, seeking out Dumbledore. "Dom, right?"

"Aye it is. He's not here, mate, he's gone on the the Ministry to check on something. Back in a flash, I'll bet."

"Right." Harry didn't turn as Snape came through the door a moment later. He turned his eyes to the Unspeakable. "What are you doing here?"

Snape cursed under his breath behind Harry as he caught sight of the other man. Harry wondered suddenly if the rest of the world was supposed to go on believing Snape was dead.

Dom shrugged. "The old man'll tell you when he gets back."

Remus pounded through the door, looking around and taking in everyone with alert grey eyes. He showed a flash of surprise when he saw Dom, but didn't comment. "Does anyone know what's happening? The house elves didn't say much."

"Not yet."

The fire burst into life, and every person in the room save Dom tensed and watched. Percy Weasley moved in, followed instantly by Albus Dumbledore.

"Right." Percy looked around until he spied Dom, and he frowned. "You came here?"

Dom shrugged, slouched in his chair. "Nowhere else."

"It's alright. He's perfectly safe." Albus spoke as he moved around his desk.

"It's not him I'm worried about."

Albus went on, ignoring Percy. He didn't look grave, but his usual cheer wasn't there. "Death Eaters have made their first attempt to free Voldemort."

Harry frowned. "It was only a matter of time. I thought he was safe where he was."

"So did we," Percy answered primly. "He should have been."

"What happened?" Remus asked, as usual getting right to the point.

"Two Unspeakables, the regular guards at Voldemort's door, were murdered. They were found a few corridors away from Voldemort's prison, which means we're unsure if the killers now know Voldemort's precise location or not. But his guard has been doubled and the Ministry is watching its halls much closer now."

"Potter's right. It was only a matter of time." Snape's eyes flashed to Dom, then back to Dumbledore. He didn't look pleasant at all.

Albus nodded. "Young Dominic was trained to show the ways through the Department of Mysteries. He was one of the few who could find that doorway, so naturally he is being sought for questioning."

"You're hiding him here? Do you doubt the Ministry's judgement?"

"Severus. I offer Dominic the same protection I offer anyone. He assures me he had nothing to do with the attack. The Ministry, I'm afraid, will not give him as much consideration as a normal suspect."

"Why not?" Snape's eyes dug into the man. Lke he was dissecting with his eyes to find the good bits for some potion or another, Harry found himself thinking.

Dom faced that look with a raised eyebrow. He held up his arm and tugged at his sleeve, revealing a black line across the inside of his wrist.

Harry's eyes flashed to Remus instantly.

His adopted godfather paled but nodded. His own matching tag, a series of small tattooed numbers given rather brutally by the Ministry to Remus and all like him, was hidden by his robes. "You're a werewolf."

"That's what they tell me."

Remus's eyes widened and he smiled suddenly, incongruous with the situation. "That's where I know you from! Of course!"

Dom flashed a quickfire grin. "That'd be it, mate. Sorry I didn't remind you before, but it doesn't pay to go bragging about being bitten when the only way you have your job is to make sure no one finds out."

Remus nodded, understanding on his face. "Harry, you remember Dom, don't you? He shared a room in St. Mungo's with Arthur a few years ago when Arthur was attacked."

Harry studied the man for a moment, but shrugged. He remembered Mr. Weasley in the hospital. They had been too busy with Ron's dad to pay the silent man in the other bed much attention. But he remembered Remus going over and spending time talking to the man once he found out he was put there by a werewolf bite.

"You look better," Remus said to Dom.

Dom sat up, covering his tag again. "Couldn't get much worse then I was back then."

"Can the wolves please leave the room if they want to sniff each other? There are more important things to discuss."

Harry glared at Snape. "Like what? The situation is what it is. They tried to free Voldemort. They'll try again. Now they have a better idea where he is. What's to discuss?"

"Shut your ignorant mouth for five minutes, and you may find out."

"Severus. Harry. I'm afraid you're both wrong. There is much more to discuss, Harry. But not at the moment. It is the end of a long day, and I'm sure our guest is tired. For now all that needs to be said is that the time frame on this matter is more narrow than we suspected."


	14. Brainstorms

"I give up. This is nothing but a bunch of ruddy nonsense about letting the earth guide you. How do you even do that?" Ron slammed his book shut.

"Some of these do seem a bit like those magic books you find in Muggle shops. " Hermione's voice revealed a tilt of frustration, but her eyes stayed in the book she held. "This one seems to have secret spells to help a person find their spirit guide, whatever that means. But we've got to keep looking. What if there's an answer here?"

"Answer to what?" Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If I need to know what stone best compliments my aura I'll ask Trelawney."

"Well, there's an entire pile of these to go and I'm not doing them by myself."

"Hermione." Ron's voice came precariously close to a whine. "We've not found anything even close, and we've looked through more than half. These books are rubbish. Whatever magic we need isn't here."

"What do you propose we do, Ron? Honestly, give me something better and I'll be more than happy to leave this library and join you." Her eyes came out of the book to flash fire at her boyfriend.

Ron smiled his most charming, forgetting the million other times charm hadn't managed to work. "I've got an idea. Why don't we do exactly the opposite of what Snape says and find some brilliant Muggle weapon and just blowYou Know Whoup?"

She rolled her eyes and dove back into the book, her shoulders hunched in a way that meant she was now ignoring them.

Ron turned to Harry. "How about it? Blow his head off with one of those Muggle bazooms?"

"Bazooms?" Harry laughed.

Ron blinked. "Dad says they're like really loud wands with triggers and they shoot metal instead of magic, and it just sounds perfect to me."

Harry blinked. "Do you mean...bazooka?"

"Whatever, mate. Bazoom, bazooka." Ron shrugged.

"Right. I dunno. Seems like any kind of gun would do it, but Snape..." Harry frowned. "I guess he's just a bitter old idiot though, right? Bet you a sackful of galleons he never had the bollucks to try to kill Voldemort himself."

Ron laughed. "Can't even say that name, can he?"

Even Hermione stopped pretending to ignore them long enough to look at Ron.

Ron flushed. "Anyway."

Harry sighed and grabbed another book.

"Now what I don't understand," came a voice suddenly from near the door.

Harry jumped, wand half out before he realized what he was doing.

Seamus leaned against a book shelf, arms crossed as he regarded them. "What I don't understand is why I can never track anyone down in this castle. I don't understand why there's this bloody great empty place and that beautiful lake outside and that view from the west walls, and yet I find you three in here, reading like you're still in school."

Ron laughed - glad of the interruption, Harry knew. Ron really didn't like research. "How's it going then, Seamus? You bored? I can show you some of the hidden corridors on the third floor if you're bored."

"Don't you dare." came Hermione's instant response.

Seamus chuckled, looking the opposite of the pale, scared figure he'd been last time Harry had seen him.

Which reminded him... "Say, mate. Where are you hiding out, anyway? Haven't seen you much at all since dinner the other night."

Seamus moved in and threw himself into a chair. He pushed aside some of the books without looking at them, which made Hermione sigh relief. Seamus was an old friend but he wasn't in the Order and he probably didn't have a clue what was happening.

"I suppose mostly I've just felt like keeping to myself. Looking around the castle and everything. It's so strange being back here. It's going to take some getting used to."

Hermione leaned towards him, her brow furrowed. "Your wand burned in your home, didn't it?"

He nodded.

"Does that mean you've not done magic since..."

"Not for years. I haven't let myself think about it." He smiled sadly. "I thought the wizarding world had just thrown me away. It was easy to tell myself I wanted nothing to do with it anymore."

Harry understood that. "Have you thought about getting a wand now? To defend yourself?"

Seamus laughed. "No, no. There's no point, really. I don't need to defend myself. I've got Severus, don't I? And now all my old friends back."

"What if you need to defend yourself from Snape?"

Seamus tilted his head. "That's just silly, Harry."

"Or any of us?" Harry added as an afterthought. "You're back in this world now, you'll probably need it."

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm nobody, really. I'm as good as a Muggle these days. And hanging around all you important sorts makes me even less of a target, doesn't it?"

"That's a naive attitude to have right now," Harry said.

"Besides, you need to be able to take care of yourself. You shouldn't need to rely on anyone for anything." Hermione studied Seamus.

Seamus just smiled. "But I already do."

"Snape."

He turned to Harry and nodded. "Of course. I rely on him for just about everything. I don't need anything else."

Harry shook his head, astounded. How much of this was Seamus and how much was that potion he didn't know, but still... "I never had you pegged as a doormat, mate."

Seamus's smile wavered.

Harry leaned in, studying him. Old Magic was beyond his control. Voldemort was out of his grasp. But Seamus he could help. All he had to do was break him from the hold Snape had on him.

Seamus met his eyes, then looked down. "You don't understand, Harry. Not at all. Think badly of me if you want, but nothing's ever as simple as it seems."

Snape sighed as he turned off the fire under his cauldron. This was a bigger moment than he was giving it credit for. He had done so much work on this potion in the last few years, but his trials had gone untested. He knew it would work the way he had altered it to, of course. His potions always did.

But proof never hurt.

He poured the potion into two goblets and grimaced, realizing this meant he had to go hunt down a werewolf.

That was at least a simpler task than it might have been in Ireland. He simply threw powder into his floo and stuck his head in, letting the fire whip him disconcertingly into a fresh room.

"Lupin."

Remus sat at his sofa, drinking tea, being annoyingly English as was his wont. And, for good or bad, the other werewolf was there with him. His drink seemed less innocent.

The second wolf started when he appeared, but Lupin was unphased. "Severus."

He grunted and pushed his hands through the fire. The goblets arrived on the other side unspilt and he held them out. "Here."

Remus stood, setting his cup and saucer down and straightening his sweater, approaching the fire. "What's this?"

"The full moon is in five days. Don't ask stupid questions."

Remus looked surprised. "Severus, please don't think I don't appreciate this, but I have another contact for Wolfsbane. A man I found through a potion's journal once you had left. His delivery...is late, as a matter of fact, but should be here any time."

Snape cocked an eyebrow. "You're not getting a bloody package. And the next time you accept a delicate potion from a total stranger on the basis of a few articles in a journal, you'll probably end up dead or wishing you were."

"More than a few. The man is well-regarded as..." Remus frowned and took the goblets. Then his eyes cleared and he seemed utterly astounded. "It was you?"

The other man joined Lupin, sniffing at the goblet and making a face. "What's this, then?"

Snape sighed, wanting to pull his head back and go back to his silence, but knowing Lupin would follow him if he did. "Just drink it."

"Wolfsbane," Remus said, handing the goblet to him.

Dom, Snape remembered his name suddenly, took the goblet but shook his head. "Don't have the money, mate. Ministry never did pay enough to save any-"

Remus stopped him. "He doesn't want payment. But...he has my thanks, for what it's worth." He turned back to Snape, his eyes odd. "All this time it was you, and you never let on. But the journals, the contributions that name has made over the years..."

"They won't publish a known Death Eater's works. Thank me by drinking the potion and letting it be." Snape moved through the fire, shutting his eyes against the sickening rush.

Alone in his office again, he looked at the two remaining cauldrons, bubbling away as always. He sighed, and his arm gave a twinge.

He wondered if anyone was waiting for him back in his quarters.


	15. Voyeur

_Author's Note - Here's where it gets Rated R, folks. _

It was an easy matter following Seamus down the corridors to the dungeon. Seamus was still not reaccustomed to what noises were natural in a drafty castle and what noises were caused by the pad of footsteps and the slide of fabric against the floor.

Remus's protests rose to Harry's mind once or twice as they went. Snape was back to help, of course. He was still considered part of the Order, even if he had run away. Whatever was in those potions Snape fed Seamus couldn't be what Harry was thinking. It just couldn't.

Remus could be gullible at times.

He followed Seamus into the dungeons, where the cloak became doubly useful against the drop in temperature. Seamus navigated the corridors easily and soon stopped and spoke a charm to open a door. Wandless, too. Harry absently wondered how he did it. Snape must have set the door to recognize his voice.

Seamus entered the room and looked around for a few seconds before he turned to shut the door. Harry had plenty of time to slide in around him.

Snape wasn't in sight. Seamus went towards the kitchen.

Harry took in the heavy furniture, the dark woods and rich greens and blacks, and his eyes widened. Nice. Much nicer than the dorms. There were things there, pillows, candles, things that were more luxury than necessity. He never would have thought it of Snape. He had expected spartan walls and a concrete bed. Or a coffin.

The door behind him burst open, and he jumped and darted out of the way as a glowering Snape came in. There was fury in those black eyes.

"Where are you?"

Seamus came out of the kitchen. His eyebrows were raised but that was the only surprise he showed at Snape's tone. "Right here. I just got back." Seamus had an empty goblet in his hand which he raised with a faint smile. "Thanks for leaving it."

Harry moved to hug the wall as Snape passed on his way to Seamus, and moved around them to watch from further inside. He saw Snape grab the goblet and peer in, as if making sure Seamus had swallowed the full dose. Black eyes narrowed then relaxed, and Snape set the goblet on the table. He moved through a doorway without a word or a glance at Seamus.

Seamus followed, and Harry was on his tail fast in case the door got shut. He bit back a surprised sound when he saw the rich and ornate bedroom, the large pillowy bed and grounded tub. Half of him wanted to simply walk around and explore where Severus Snape spent his time. But his mind stayed on his mission, and he faced the two men again.

"You look tired," Seamus said.

Snape released the clasp of his robe. He shrugged the black fabric off and started undoing the cuffs of his shirt. "I don't know why he bothers with these talks. It's the same as it ever was. He can cluck and offer sympathy and lemon drops, but he's useless to actually solve anything."

Harry's hands curled into fists.

Seamus sat on the bed. "Severus, he's not the one giving you trouble."

"He's the one keeping me here."

"He can't change their minds anymore than he could change yours."

Snape's eyes flashed. "I don't keep you here to argue with me, boy."

Harry's eyebrows flew up.

Seamus smiled. "And he doesn't keep you here to ensure you get tormented by people who can't handle the fact that not all of the good guys are bright and likeable people."

Snape's eyes went to Seamus. "I'm not bright?" he replied with one eyebrow arched.

Seamus stood up. "You know what I mean. All golden and noble."

"You mean like you." Harry could hear the mockery in Snape's voice. He wondered how Seamus could listen to it and not explode in anger.

Seamus's hands went to Snape's waist. "No. I mean like Harry. Or any of them, really. I'm just as flawed as you. I never had that Gryffindor bravery they're so proud of."

"You're the bravest person I know."

Harry blinked at the sudden softness of Snape's voice. Still low, still cool, but there was something different in Snape's tone when he spoke to Seamus. Something Harry hadn't noticed until just then.

Harry moved around the other side of the bed so he could see them both. Snape's expression was softer. His pale hand came up and, with surprising gentleness, lay fingertips against Seamus's cheek. "And one of the wisest."

Seamus softened all over, laying his hand on Snape's outstretched arm. "Just the life I've lived, I suppose. I've been through a thing or two."

"No more than I have," came the argument.

"Much less than you have," Seamus agreed.

Harry studied him, looking for any sign of glaze in his eyes or hesitation, any hint that the words he spoke were induced by whatever potion he had taken.

But Seamus glowed, an openness about him that felt almost invasive to look at without being invited, and that almost made Harry uncomfortable.

All he could see was adoration on his former classmate.

"But there's a difference between us, Severus. The things I've been through have been left behind. You...you still live those bad years. You keep yourself buried under those emotions and you keep being affected by people for what they did years ago. You haven't gotten past it, Severus. I wish I could help you, because it would make this easier for you."

Snape shook his head, and Harry saw the oddness of a smile tilting his mouth. Not sharp, not a smirk. Not crooked or sarcastic or snide. A smile. "We're all living in the past here, Seamus. You may be the only true grown-up in this castle." There was irony in his voice - gentle, though, and if Harry had to call it something he would have called it warm.

It made Seamus grin. "In that one way only. And that's not saying a lot." His hand slid to skim down the front of Snape's shirt.

Snape...Harry would never think of him as a man. He would always be...just Snape. But he thought if he looked at him in just the right way he could see him without the slime around him. Whatever it was, potion or insanity or whatever, that kept Seamus there, it seemed to make just a little more sense as Harry saw how Snape looked at Seamus.

Merlin knew, Snape wasn't handsome. His face was lined, his hair greying. His nose was too large, his eyes too black. But right then his expression was soft and the lines were reduced. His eyes were black like the velvet midnight of the heavy drapes around the bed.

He was handsome at that moment. Was he drugging Seamus to keep him around? Maybe. Harry thought so. But was he doing it out of malice?

Snape felt for Seamus, it showed all over his face. But how much of it was love, and how much was the simple need of a bitter and lonely man to have someone young and handsome under his control?

Snape stroked Seamus's face, and black eyes seemed to darken even more. His smile faded. "I want you tonight."

Seamus's glow vanished just like that.

Harry frowned, studying him suddenly more intensely.

"Severus. "

"Don't argue." Snape's voice was gentle but the words were a command.

The sick feeling in Harry stirred at Seamus's response, a downturned nod. There was tension all over Seamus's body that he was unwilling to - or simple couldn't - fight off.

For a moment Harry had wanted to be wrong about Snape. But this was a crack in the facade.

Snape's fingers moved under Seamus's chin, nudging his eyes up. "Trust me."

Harry could see misery in Seamus's normally unclouded eyes, but with a small shake of his head Seamus made it fade, and his smile returned. "I do."

"Then don't act as if I'm asking to rape you."

Seamus laughed shakily. He leaned up to bring himself closer to Snape. But no kiss, not yet, just closed eyes and shared space. Preparing himself somehow?

Harry should have stopped it right then.

Seamus lifted a hand and slid it through short, strange, salt-and-pepper hair. "Severus." His voice shook.

Snape's smile returned.

Harry let out a breath. It looked as if the potion had kicked in at full strength.

"It's not like you to worry. Relax." Snape's voice was low; soothing, in an odd way.

Seamus nodded. "Make me." His face tilted up.

Practiced, ever-skilled pale fingers moved down Seamus's shirt, unfastening and revealing golden skin.

Harry bit his lip, backing against the nearby stone wall and averting his eyes. He should have left. Snape wouldn't hear the front door open and shut.

What other option did he have? To stay and watch his friend being...doing something unwilling, even if the potion made him think he wanted it?

Bloody fuck, what was Harry going to do about Snape? He still needed him. Or did he?

He turned bleak eyes back to the pair. In silence they undressed each other. Seamus was left clad in a pair of green trousers, and he was pushing at Severus's shirt to nudge it off his shoulders.

Harry's grim speculation vanished under morbid curiousity. He was getting a look at the beast himself, the man who had haunted him since his first year at Hogwarts.

Reedy and ribbed and long. Scarred, down his chest and arms. Harry was surprised - he had always assumed Voldemort tortured solely with magic. The Dark Mark shone black and hideous, but it took Harry a moment to realize what it was. It was deformed somehow, surrounded by scar tissue, angry red in spots where a Mark was normally a cold, inkish black.

It looked as if layers of it had been removed, only to reveal that the Mark was as deep as vein and tissue.

Seamus let the starched white shirt fall. He seemed to be breathing deeper, and slowly his hands came up to lay flat against that pale chest.

Harry's eyes were drawn by a gleam of silver, and he moved in a step closer to get a better look at the charm around Snape's neck. Jewelry didn't seem to be in his nature, but there it hung from a long chain. He had never seen it, so Snape must have worn it under his clothes. It seemed plain enough, a small circle of thin silver. It didn't even seem to be magical at all.

His attention hiccuped when Seamus's hands moved, fingers sliding down, stroking over curve and muscle and bone. Harry's stomach clenched when Seamus touched Severus's ribs, stroking with fingertips only.

The silence in the room was odd, uncomfortable for Harry. He glanced towards the door again with another admonission that he should leave. But the stone was solid against his back, and who knew what sort of noises he might make leaving that would thunder through the room and get him discovered.

It occured to him for the first time how dangerous it was being there. Snape was snappish when asked how he was doing - he considered that a foul invasion of privacy. What Harry was doing would get him killed if Snape found him.

"Seamus."

Harry's eyes jerked back to them at the strained sound of Snape's voice. Seamus still wasn't doing much of anything, just touching. Those fingertips skimmed up and down against his back. He stepped in, his face vanishing in the curve of Snape's shoulder.

Snape's hands came up and moved under Seamus's arms and lay against his back, holding the younger man in something like a hug. Harry could despise Snape and still admit that those long hands were graceful and strangely elegant. Deft when cutting into potion ingredients, formed perfectly for the slice of a wand through the air. Long, slender fingers; he could imagine they were good for more than just magic.

He grimaced when he realized what he was thinking.

Something was wrong here. Something didn't quite piece together.

Seamus stirred, the soft sound of kisses against skin reaching Harry's ears. Seamus moved up Snape's neck and to his jaw, pulling back after a moment.

They locked eyes, and Harry felt the change in the air. Snape was a master, truly, if a potion could make Seamus radiate what he did right then. His eyes were bright, face open in a way Seamus had never been able to shake. Harry couldn't reconcile it - he had never seen that expression before, not on anyone. Directed at a monster like Snape it was incongruous. Wrong.

Snape's eyes slid all over that face, intense and studying. Memorizing the look, Harry thought, and better that he did. He wouldn't see it for long.

When they finally came together and their mouths met, Harry actually sighed. He bit his lip, berating himself for getting caught up in such a sickening, false moment.

Merlin, it didn't look false. Seamus's body pressed in to Snape, and he made eager noises against the other man. A flash of tongues between them, hands sliding over Seamus's back.

They moved together back until they reached the bed. Snape sat, his hands never leaving Seamus, never allowing their mouths to part. Seamus knelt on the mattress, straddling Snape's legs. Never once losing contact.

It was then that Harry noticed a silver chain swinging from Seamus's neck. It looked exactly like the one Snape wore, and he frowned. Another method of control, perhaps?

Harry dragged his eyes from them to the door. His escape, and he had to make it. He didn't know what should have bothered him more - not stopping what was happening, not leaving, or not thinking it completely repulsive. He swallowed and tugged the cloak closer around him.

He looked back to see voracious kisses and quickening hands, and his heart pounded so loudly he couldn't believe they didn't hear it. He moved a hand over his chest as if it would mute the sound. Thoughts of escaping and disgust vanished.

He wasn't the most experienced person. He had been with a total of two girls, and neither time had felt comfortable. He didn't recognize this he was looking at. The sounds they made against each other were hungry, and the way they tore themselves away to gasp in a breath and dive right back in felt bizarre. They were at each other like food...like Dudley when dessert came.

He felt a flash of something like loneliness as Seamus urged Snape down on his back and began feasting on throat and shoulder and collarbone. How was it that someone could look at Snape so adoringly when no one had ever looked at Harry that way? How could Snape deserve that?

He didn't deserve it, Harry reminded himself sternly. He created it. He forced it. Every smirking lecture Snape had ever given on love potions came to Harry's mind, letting him feel anger instead of stirring or self-pity. How dare he?

Unspeakable bastard.

But it was hard to reconcile that to the tenderness on Snape's face and the gentleness in his hands as they threaded through Seamus's hair. The color in his cheeks suited him, Harry thought, and hated himself just a little more for it.

Seamus moved downwards, exploring as if unable to move on until every inch of the body beneath him was mapped out and sampled. Harry caught the flicker of tongue and whiteness of teeth, and heard Snape's breathing shift and bend. A bite over the left nipple made Snape's back arch. His hands clenched in Seamus's hair.

"Careful," he breathed out, his low voice a croak that made Harry flush. "No blood."

Seamus met his eyes for a moment and smiled, adoring as before. He nodded.

Harry was hit with a sharp wistfulness, and that more than anything made him look away as Seamus's hands reached for Snape's slacks. To witness this was bad enough, but to envy it? To want it for himself?

He would never force anyone. He would never bed anyone who was drugged or under suggestion, even if it made them so ardently, somehow_ coherently_ worshipful.

Soft sounds and rustles against sheets made him blush, and the need to look back was so strong he fisted his hands to fight it. He wasn't some voyeur. He had come out of concern, out of a need to _know_. He didn't have to see this. He knew.

He didn't need to stay. There was little doubt in his mind that Snape wouldn't notice him leaving.

A gasp from Snape, a helpless noise, made him look. His face went red, but he couldn't turn away. He was paralyzed by something stronger than _imperio_ and more insidious because it came directly from himself.

He hated himself for the ache in his groin. He was painfully hard as he watched and listened, and though at times he managed to look away, for the most part he was a wrapt, uninvited, unwelcome audience.

When it was over they both slept. No sheets to cover them, no modesty in that room. Bare skin damp with sweat, gold lay sprawled across porcelain white. Slender fingers in blond hair, and swollen lips pressed against a thin chest.

Harry left, unheard by the pair.

The corridors felt different around him as he walked away from this strange world and back to somewhere that, even if it felt colder now, was still more familiar.


	16. Veritas

Harry couldn't help but glance Snape's way as they sat in silence, going through book after book in a grimly lessening stack. Snape looked as surly about being there as Harry would have imagined, dismissing most of his books with disgust.

But he was there, thanks to Albus putting on pressure to solve this puzzle before another attack could be made and more people would die.

Remus and the man who seemed to be his new best friend were there as well. Remus was going through books with focus. Dom wasn't even pretending to try. He flipped through a few issues of the i Prophet /i Percy had brought on a stop-off, snorting with amusement every few minutes.

With a soft pop a house elf appeared, bowing to the room with an extra nervous twitter that meant he was probably one of Albus's new recruits. He had on the remains of what could have been one of Dudley's leftover shirts. It draped over him like a tent and meant that he was free and probably crying himself to sleep at night over it.

"Anyone is needing anything?"

"No, thank you," came several mumbled answers.

"Where's Poddy?" Since Dobby had gone on holiday Poddy seemed to be the dominant elf when it came to serving them directly.

Another low bow. "Mister Harry Potter sir. Poddy is seeing to Mister Seamus Finnigan."

"Mm." Harry sighed and turned back to his book.

"Where are they?" came from Snape's table nearby.

"Pardon, sir. They is walking by the lake, Renny thinks."

Snape cursed and stood up, slamming his book on the table. "Bloody nonsense. Good evening," he said curtly to the rest of the room as he headed for the door.

Harry watched him go, then stood and pushed away from the table. "Be back in a minute," he mumbled to Ron and Hermione as he followed Snape out the door.

He caught up to him with some difficulty. Snape must have been in a hurry suddenly. "Wait."

Snape glanced back then kept moving. "Tell Dumbledore I didn't come back here to play study partner with you lot of infants."

Harry jogged to catch up, feeling his face heat up. How Snape did it, how he drove Harry to pure fury with nothing but childish insults Harry had heard a hundred times before, he would never know. "I'm not your bloody messenger boy, and I told you to wait."

Snape's cold laugh was quiet. "The day I start taking orders from you, Potter-"

"I'm not bloody joking."

Nothing. Snape kept swinging those long, reedy legs further away.

"I know what you're doing." Harry planted the challenge in his voice. It was time to bring things out into the open. "I know about Seamus."

Snape stopped and turned on his heel so fast his robe fluttered. His face was pale, his eyes dangerous. "Excuse me?"

Harry puffed his chest out unconsciously. "Why are you going after him? Why won't you let him out of the castle?"

Snape moved to him. Harry fisted his hands to keep from shrinking back. Snape was taller and crueler, and Harry had no doubt he was more dangerous - if only because he would be quicker to kill or hurt without hesitating.

Snape leaned down, putting his face in Harry's as if they were still student and teacher. "If you know so much, why don't you tell me." The sneer was on his face and in his voice.

Under their combined effect Harry bristled. "Because you're afraid somehow he's going to become immune to that i potion /i ," he spoke with emphasis, "and then he'll leave you for good."

Snape drew back, losing even more color. "How do you know..." He stopped, and the strangest look Harry had ever seen came over his face. He looked somehow furious and wilted all at the same time. "You conceited bastard. You heartless, arrogant..."

Harry snorted, but the sound was weak. Something about Snape's face and the waver of his voice made Harry's stomach drop.

Snape studied him, and his shoulders sagged. "You don't know anything."

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it.

Snape turned, cursing vehemently under his breath in that shaken, odd tone.

Harry stayed where he was.

Snape slammed the door into his quarters, fists clenched so tightly he could feel his pulse against his palms.

How dare he? That cocky bloody brainless reincarnation of James bloody Potter, throwing around words, pretending to have an understanding of something he couldn't possibly comprehend.

Fucking Harry Potter and his black-and-white world. It was no sodding wonder the Dark Lord had yet to be destroyed. Potter had never grown up. He had never learned a single thing that wasn't in a ruddy text book.

Pottershould have known. He should have been able to understand. Lupin, as much as he annoyed Snape, at least understood. He knew that the world wasn't made up of simply good or bad. He understood that sometimes things weren't one dimensional.

It was such a i basic /i lesson. So bloody obvious. Ugly people weren't always evil. Unpleasant people weren't bad people, not all the time. Snape, though he wasn't a good man, was no one to be looked at as evil. He paid his dues. He had done enough for the side of good to make up for his unpleasantness. His years of slavery at the hands of two masters gave him more than enough leeway to be as ugly as he wanted to, and Harry Potter would not destroy him with accusations just because he didn't like him.

He looked around his empty quarters and felt his red wash of anger rumble deeper. There was a parchment by his floo, and he stormed over and grabbed it.

Was Potter going after Seamus with that same nonsense? He wondered as he tore open the scroll, which was marked by the talons of an owl.

The words in the parchment, and the familiar jagged scrawl they were in, instantly wiped Potter from his mind. He read them twice just to make sure.

He reached up shakily, pressing his fingers into a charm worn under his shirt on a long chain. He clasped it tightly through the fabric of his shirt and shut his eyes. "Get back here."

He felt a sudden rush of alarm that wasn't his. He released the chain and moved to the couch to sit.

Seamus appeared an instant later, apparated with help from house elf magic, and the small elf that accompanied him vanished an instant later.

"What?" The boy's face was pale with alarm. They never used the charms. It was a backup in case of an emergency.

Snape held out the parchment.

Seamus took it, white-faced, and read. His brow furrowed and he looked up. "It's gone, then?"

Snape nodded.

Seamus frowned at the letter. "Who wrote this?"

"Malfoy. The Younger. I'd know it anywhere." Proud and jutting writing, like the brat himself. The heart and soul of his father. "If we're lucky it was just our home. If I'm not lucky, and I'm usually not, he tracked down my connections in nearby villages and destroyed each of them."

Seamus sat beside him. "Oh." His voice was small. "We can't go back?"

"There's nothing to go back to. They've discovered I'm alive and that I'm here, and they bloody well tracked me right back to my home." His face clouded over - someone at Hogwarts must have said something.

Someone at Hogwarts was communicating with Death Eaters.

That was that. His home, his sanctuary for more than a year, gone. Everything.

"I'm sorry," Seamus said, and Snape felt his gaze though he didn't turn to look. Arms appeared around him, pulling him in and holding him close.

Snape stared out at the room, eyes blank. Start from scratch. No suppliers for his ingredients, no wards or safety spells, no defenses.

He couldn't even get warm from Seamus's touch. Because he had no idea if by the time they were ready to leave he would even have his lover with him.

"There's something we're missing. Something so obvious one of us is going to trip over it any moment."

Seconds passed. Pages flipped.

"I mean it. Any minute now, really."

Harry looked up at Ron but couldn't manage a smile.

"Do you suppose I could ask you all something? It may be trite, but...I find myself wondering."

"Hmm? What's that, Seamus?"

"What exactly is it you're all looking for?"

Ron chuckled.

Harry answered, his voice low. He didn't look at Seamus and Snape, sitting together. He wasn't going to look at them. "Oh, some new kind of magic. Well, some _old_ kind of magic. One no one knows about, one that's strong enough to beat Voldemort for good. But it's no big deal - I have a couple of days yet to find it and learn it."

"Are you serious?"

Seamus sounded so bewildered that Harry had to look. He smiled at the look on his old schoolmate's face, then dropped his eyes before he could take in the dark shadow sitting beside him. "Sadly, yes."

"Oh."

Silence fell.

"Why don't you ask Poddy?"

Harry blinked at Seamus. "Poddy? The house elf?"

Seamus smiled. "Sure. I mean, house elves go back before wizards, and their magic is obviously stronger than ours."

"House elves? Those little runty wrinkled potatoes with quaffles for eyes who bow and scrape and do whatever we tell them?" Ron's voice was dubious.

"Ron!" came Hermione's response, almost flat in as much as it was reflex by then.

Seamus bit his lip, glancing to his side at the man Harry wasn't looking at. "Is that a stupid idea? I just thought, Dumbledore's got his best wards around this school, right? Old magic and all that. And the house elves can apparate still, even though we can't."

Harry's brow furrowed. He studied Seamus, then looked around at his friends.

Hermione looked interested. Ron just shrugged.

Harry looked to Snape next. Like it or not, with Remus off playing with his wolf friend Snape was the strongest wizard there to turn to.

Snape stared at Seamus, eyes narrowed. "It wouldn't do any harm to ask. You've got a repor with those irritating little creatures, you do it."

Seamus jumped to his feet, grinning proudly. "I will! I'll ask Poddy what he thinks and get back to you." He bolted out of the library.

Snape shook his head and went back to his book, muttering under his breath.

"That wasn't very nice, Professor Snape," Hermione said quietly. "It wouldn't have hurt to take him seriously."

Snape's eyes snapped to her. "What makes you think I don't take him seriously, Granger? I wasn't humoring him, and I'll thank you never to presume to interpret my feelings again. I trust him with a hundred times more than I'd ever trust to you."

She blanched, lowering her eyes. "Oh."

Snape went back to reading, turning to close himself off from the rest of them.

Harry looked at Hermione across the table and rolled his eyes in a way he'd done often behind Snape's back in potions classes.

She offered a wan smile.

Seamus's energy and cheer when he burst in maybe an hour later shifted the thick and heavy mood. "Poddy thinks he might be able to help!"

"Really?" Harry couldn't hide his shock. He shut the book on elemental magic he was reading.

Hermione sat bolt upright in her chair. "He'll tell you about house elf magic?"

Seamus beamed. "Well, why wouldn't he?"

"I've been looking for studies or books or anything on them for years now to help with S.P.E.W. and I've never found anything! Why would they tell you when they haven't told anyone else?"

Seamus shrugged. "I don't know if they haven't told anyone, or if they have and no one's bothered writing it."

Harry stood up and stretched slowly. "Right.I've been sitting here for almost six hours, and I'm exhausted. Can we save the lecture for tomorrow?"

"Of course. I want to talk to him a bit more, anyway. But this might really help, right?"

"Maybe." Harry shoved his books back and rolled his shoulders with a grimace. "Thanks, Seamus. I'm sure it'll be enlightening, either way."

"Like to give Hermione more fuel for Spew, too, eh?"

"I heard that, Ron."

Harry managed a faint smile to match Ron's.

"Professor..." Hermione lagged behind, and Harry glanced back to see her approaching Snape. "Do you think I might talk to you for a moment? About something that's been bothering me?"

Snape sighed but nodded Seamus to the door.

Seamus grinned and nodded back, moving out with more energy than the rest of the room put together.

Harry watched him go and glanced at Ron. "Going to wait on Hermione?"

Ron shrugged. "Best, yeah. In case the Git leaves her in tears or something."

"See you later, then." Harry moved through the door. "Seamus?"

Seamus turned and beamed, moving back to him. "Hullo, Harry! Are you going to walk me back to my room? I feel like we haven't had much time at all to talk about real things."

"Sure." He walked beside Seamus, gathering his thoughts. He couldn't let things slide. Now that the mystery of Voldemort had been tucked away until the morning the other mysteries crowded his mind, and he had to admit that Seamus and Snape were top of the list. Petty of him, but there it was.

Harry drew in a breath. "What is the potion Snape gives you?"

Seamus's steps faltered, then he laughed oddly. "Should have known you'd spot it. You were never one to miss anything, Harry." He faced Harry for a moment, serious. "I don't like keeping secrets, you know, but this one..."

"You're not going to tell me?"

Seamus bit his lip. "I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter much either way." He sounded hesitant.

They moved towards the dungeons, the air getting draftier and cooler as they walked.

"Listen...tell me something, then, to make me understand." Harry stopped, facing Seamus.

"Alright, Harry." Seamus's exuberance had faded, which made Harry feel a little guilty. He didn't want to wreck the happiness of the one person in the castle who seemed to actually be happy.

He drew in a breath. "Why him? What is it you could possibly like?"

Seamus smiled at that. "Severus? You honestly can't see?"

Harry shook his head.

Seamus looked around. "The potions classroom is nearby; let's talk there. I can't ask you to our quarters, Harry. They're not mine to share."

Harry flushed, but Seamus didn't notice as he led the way to the classroom.

They sat at a table near the door. For a moment Seamus bit his lip, thinking. "I'm not really sure what it first was." He blushed suddenly. "Well. I mean, that's all a long story. I was in the Muggle world, you know, and it had been a long time since I had seen anyone from my old life. He appeared...and that's part of the long story. But we came together, and..."

Harry studied him, fascinated by the way his every feeling seemed obvious, right there up front for Harry to do with whatever he wanted. He was so guarded himself, so careful what he allowed people to know, that this seemed alien.

"Have you ever heard that old expression about taking candy from strangers?"

Harry nodded. He had heard of it, though Merlin only knew that Petunia and Vernon would have been more likely to encourage it if she'd thought it would do Harry harm.

Seamus went on. "It's dangerous, you see. It could hurt in a thousand ways. The candy might be poisoned, or, when you reach for it they may just grab your wrist and haul you off to do whatever they want.My mam used to remind me constantly, don't do it. Don't trust strangers. Don't take candy."

Harry cocked his head, studying Seamus. "Alright. I follow you well enough."

Seamus smiled. "That's Severus."

"You just lost me."

"Well, everyone I know would have warned me against him. It's something that should have been so obvious my own mam would have said something if she'd guessed. Miserable Professor Snape. Greasy git, right? Hateful, and we all knew he had been a Death Eater." Seamus let out a sigh. "Do you know the feeling you get when you do something everyone has warned you against? Your stomach is in your throat, and you know it may be a complete mistake. You're risking yourself when all signs say not to."

"So...you're with him because you shouldn't be?"

Seamus laughed. "No. Though that was part of the excitement. I don't have the right to tell you all of it. Severus is a very private man, and a lot of it is his story to share. But he was different when I saw him again. He was still him, I mean, but there was something there. A loneliness and need. It's how he found me in the first place. I was so lost myself. There was that rush there, that grasping at something that might be poisonous. But there was more. A lot more."

"He's not a good person," Harry said, as if reminding them both of the fact.

Seamus shook his head. "You're wrong, Harry. He's not a i nice /i person, not in a lot of ways. But he's the best person I've ever known."

Harry frowned. "How can you feel that way about Snape?"

"He's so strong. He's been through so much, and even now he goes through so much. He never tried to be likeable. It's...a test, in a way. At least, I think so. He confronts people with the bluntest part of his nature, and if they demand he be nice, or chalk him up as evil, he doesn't bother with them. I hate to say it, Harry, but you're very much one of those."

Harry shook his head, confused.

"Have you noticed how he speaks to Professor Lupin?" Seamus rubbed at his arms in the cool classroom. "He isn't nice, beecause he's rarely nice. But he isn't cruel. Professor Lupin was one of the rare people who accepted Snape for how he was and was generous enough to allow him some humanity despite it."

Harrry was silent, thinking back. Snape had done some very cruel things to Remus in Remus's first year as DADA professor, but there were extenuating circumstances. Since then...

Seamus was right. He wasn't actively cruel. Not like he was to Harry.

He blinked at that, wondering if Seamus was right. Had he thought of Snape as evil because Snape was cruel? Despite all he knew of Snape's past and his decades of work as a spy? Was Remus right, and Harry was the one who couldn't accept the truth about Snape?

What did that say about Harry?

Seamus studied him, and something about Harry's expression must have satisfied him. "I told you before that I rely on Severus for everything. I didn't mean it the way you took it." He smiled, but it was so thin on his face it was almost transparent. "I'm sick."

Harry frowned, drawn out of his introspection. "What?"

"The potion Severus makes me? It keeps me healthy." Seamus studied him. "Whatever you've seen of Severus, you don't know the full story. He gets sharp with me when I endanger myself. He doesn't like me going out in the cold, for instance, or being late to take a potion. He snaps and gets mad and I think he gives you the wrong idea. If you think he isn't capable of love, you're wrong. He loves me, as much as I love him. You just have to understand that how he shows things like that is different than anyone else."

Harry stared at him.

In a neat way he cringed to realize, it made everything fall into place. Every little hint. Everything that didn't fit with his theory about some brainwashing potion fit.

Snape wasn't holding anyone captive. Remus was right. Harry was a sodding idiot. He was letting his feelings override common sense. He hated Snape, and the only way he could live with that, perhaps, was if he convinced himself Snape brought it on himself.

Harry was supposed to be the hero, after all. Heroes didn't hate anyone but villains.

Heroes weren't supposed to be petty. They weren't supposed to turn into spiteful eleven-year-olds because of a past grudge.

Bloody i hell. /i

He thought back to the night he had spied on them, and without having to warp Seamus's honest and sincere reactions to fit some brainwash theory, he realized something else. Seamus had blanched when Snape said he wanted to...well, wanted him.

He looked at Seamus bleakly. "Is is contagious? Whatever you've got?"

"It can be, but only through blood or..." he blushed,. "other fluids. I'd never risk anyone here, I promise."

"I know, Seamus." Harry's spirits sunk further with every remembered hint, and how easily he had chalked it up to something horrible. Because it was Snape, wasn't it? And he wasn't capable of good. "Bloody hell."

"What's wrong?"

"You're dying, aren't you? You're not just sick." Snape's voice in his head, when Harry asked if Snape was afraid of losing Seamus for good. Snape's voice, rough and cracked and saying that was exactly what he was afraid of.

Seamus nodded faintly.

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"It's not your doing, is it?" Seamus smiled again.

"How can you be so bloody happy?"

Seamus stood up, holding a hand out. Harry reached for it uncertainly and let Seamus tug him out of his seat. His hand was squeezed for a moment, then released.

"I've got whatever time I've got, and that's it. Severus is a genius, but the disease isn't going away. It's not progressing nearly as fast as it should, but he can't cure it. I may have years, but I may not." He shrugged, and in his face Harry watched his usual brightness returning. "If I spend my time thinking about it, then all I'm doing is dying. And that's just silly. There's too much to love about life."

Harry stared. Seamus was handsome and young and energetic. And he was dying. He had won the love of a man Harry had deemed wasn't capable of it, survived Death Eater attacks and the loss of his family. And there he was, smiling despite it all. Sincerely, too, that was the wonder of it. No forced smiles for show, no martyr bravery in the face of suffering. He was genuinely happy.

Harry shook his head. "I owe Snape an apology."

Seamus laughed, nudging Harry's arm and starting them towards the door. "For what in particular?"

"A lot of things."


	17. Elves

Elves are very much like any other creatures in the world - a species of great diversity. There were tall, regal, beautiful i cyn-cenedl /i , more commonly called i Ljosalfar /i , and almost human i svartlfar /i . All the way down to the small, meek, yet still highly magical i albor /i , who had come to be known by wizards and called house elves.

Elves had been around much longer than wizards - before the first sorcerers discovered the powers they could draw from the earth, elves were already old and cautious. They stayed hidden, for security and because the primitive and nonmagical humans didn't interest them in the slightest.

Of course as always must happen the two worlds would occasionally converge. But for the most part elves lived in peace and quiet. The i Ljosalfar /i were kings of their kind. Beautiful, powerful, generous. Admired by other elves and it seemed by the earth itself.

The i albor /i , smallest and weakest, were open in their adoration. So complete was their devotion to the i Ljosalfar /i that they neglected their own magic and lost it entirely.

Idris was a king of the i Ljosalfar /i , known for his curiosity and understanding of the world around him. He went further than any king before in learning the lore of the world. He came to realize the full depths of love and generosity of the i albor /i . He called a meeting of the highest of his kind to discuss the powerless elves, and suggested a reward for their loyal and kind service. Theirs was not servitude, he observed to his fellows, but devotion in the purest sense. Born of love rather than requirement. They neither asked for nor expected anything in return. They seemed to want for nothing.

The council discussed his suggestion for a reward, but among them were elves unknowledgeable and unconvinced that the i albor /i deserved gifts. A series of tests was concocted, hardships and demands that would test the loyalty of any thinking creature.

Without knowing of the council, the i albor /i were given outrageous demands. They performed them without complaint and returned, weary and happy and ready for more.

The council met again, and though they acknowledged the loyalty of the i albor /i , they didn't understand it. i Ljosalfar /i did not demand service, yet the i albor /i acted as servants.

The king of the i albor /i , Gareth, was called before this council. He had been a long time friend of Idris, the great king, and came without fear.

Gareth was asked by the council why his kind served. He gave the only answer he knew.They servedbecause they loved. Because they understood. They saw the heart of the i Ljosalfar /i and knew they meant no malice.

Love was too simple an answer, and the council didn't understand.

But Idris knew how to appease them. Long ago he had his friend Gareth had joined in a ritual that the i albor /i called i "Eneidiau Unswydd" /i , the heart of understanding. i Albor /i had no magic but this. Love. Understanding. A ceremony that allowed others to understand the i albor /i as they understood all other living things. Idris had gotten a glimpse of the true wonder and power of the house elves, and he alone of the i Ljosalfar /i knew that love was a great magic indeed.

Idris suggested that the council take part in this ceremony, and Gareth agreed. When the ceremony was over it took mere seconds for the council to agree to the Idris's request. The i albor /i , they decreed, were to be rewarded and valued for their service, and in fact for their very nature.

In a great and powerful spell calling the full might of the i Ljosalfar /i together, the race of i albor /i were blessed. They were granted powers worthy of their devotion. Their lives, shortest of all races of elves, were made to be unending.

But there was a catch, as there always is in such stories. The i Ljosalfar /i were generous but practical. Their gifts could easily be turned into curses. And so they put conditions on the gifts. i Albor /i had to always maintain the qualities it was being rewarded for for the rewards to remain true. If an i albor /i became ambitious, selfish, cruel, jealous...if it acted out of any feeling but true devotion, the spell would wane. Its powers would fade, and its life would wither and end.

For many decades the elves lived in happiness and contentment. The i Ljosalfar /i drew away from the world as their time on earth drew to a close and man started to take over the lands. A few remained, but were never seen by man again.

i Albor /i , though, were too devoted to the world, to their lands, and to each other to ever leave. They weren't shy in showing themselves to men, and in a turn the i Ljosalfar /i couldn't have predicted their skills and natures were quickly discovered and just as quickly abused. They became a race to be bought and sold, slaves first willing then obligated. Their histories were ignored, their great age and experience, and they were placed under rules that became their new laws. Clothes became freedom. Men became masters. Reluctance and resentment, such as they were capable of, became reason for self-punishment and hatred.

Decades past, then centuries. The elves no longer remembered what it was like to serve out of sheer love. Being introduced to and corrupted by men made the elves different, able on their master's behalfs to hate and fear and resent. They aged, their powers muted. Some died. More were born.

The i albor /i , prized among the highest beings ever put on earth, became house elves, snivelling, overlooked, abused.

But they went on.

Ron gaped at the elf. "Are you kidding me?"

"Ron!" Hermione's eyes glowed as she absorbed the tale Poddy had just weaved for them, but as usual she took the time to be outraged at her fiance.

He pointed at Poddy, as though that were enough rationale. "They're just...look at him! They're house elves! They iron their bloody hands!"

Harry was inclined to agree, but he had the sense not to say so out loud; the main difference, he sometimes thought, between him and Ron.

She turned back to Poddy, dismissing Ron. "Thank you so much for telling us. That's amazing, really."

"But does it help us in any way?" Snape roused from his corner chair. "There are no prancing high elves here to grant Potter those powers, are there?"

Poddy's watery eyes blinked. "No. The high elves is not living anymore."

"Then why did you tell Seamus you could help us?" Snape rose from his chair.

Harry glanced around. "Where is Seamus, anyway? I thought he'd want to be here."

"He was tired. Leave him be." Snape didn't even look at Harry. His eyes drilled into Poddy.

"Poddy is asking your forgiveness, Severus Snape. Poddy is thinking there is lessons in his story."

"Bloody waste of a species. That's the lesson." Snape whirled and marched towards the door.

Harry frowned at Ron and Hermione. "Does it help at all? Really?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know how it could. It is a lovely story, though. Someone should write it down. Their story should be told. Those elves in the story, i albor /i ," she tried out with a smile, "don't deserve what we've made of them."

The door slammed shut behind Snape, and Harry sighed. He understood Snape's tantrum for once. Frustration, growing worse every day. Turning back to his friends, and the distressed-looking house elf, he sighed. "Where do we go from here, then?"

Snape stormed into his rooms, letting the door slam behind him.

He moved through the living space, glaring at the fireplace until it burst into flames. Bloody drafty dungeons. No wonder Seamus wasn't feeling well.

He stalked to the bedroom and slashed his wand through the air in the direction of the bath, letting it fill. He needed relaxation, in whatever form he could get it.

He jerked open his shirt and threw his robe towards a chair, and looked over at the bed.

Seamus was sound asleep. That wasn't a particularly welcoming sight. The boy was sick, yes, but he typically had more energy than anyone Snape knew. His breathing sounded even and normal, though, which was good. His cheeks had some color in them.

Snape frowned as he approached to wake Seamus. His eyes focused on a small circle of darkness near Seamus's neck. A bruise? A bite? He didn't mark Seamus that deeply. He was too cautious about blood and disease.

A flash of red went through him. He crouched on the bed, jostling the boy without waking him up. Another bad sign, but one he ignored to lean in, brush back unruly blond hair, and get a closer look at this mark. Someone else's print on his property. It hadn't taken him long after all. Was it Potter?

He brow furrowed, though, and the fire receded. That was no love bite. It was thick, and a darker purple than a mere bruise.

His mind went back to the reading he and Seamus had done when his hideous disease first showed itself, mentally going through side effects and progressive conditions. He remembered something...

It was nothing deadly. A skin condition that people succumbed to when they had what Seamus had. But it was a sign, and not a good one. Despite his potions, the disease was progressing. It was letting other diseases in to nest in Seamus's blood.

His heart did a sickening lurch, like being tugged through a floo unexpectedly. His eyes moved to Seamus's face, softened in sleep, younger than usual. His hand moved from Seamus's neck to brush over his forehead, chasing away more wild hair.

He didn't like quiet moments like this. When Seamus wasn't looking at him the demons had time to plant their cynical thoughts in Snape's brain. Seamus was one of the only honestly decent people Snape had ever known, and that should have kept him away. Never in his life had decent and pure people taken an interest in Snape. They were always the ones who brushed him aside and sneered at his obvious darkness.

Remus Lupin was a decent, good person. Snape had known that their first year at Hogwarts together. He had watched, unnoticed, in the library or in potions classes as Remus devoted his time to helping his friends, and said nothing cruel about anyone.

When Snape was noticed things turned ugly. Remus, for whatever reason, let them. He didn't join in, except on one or two rare occasions, but he sat idly by. He laughed at his friends' jokes.

Snape was no self-deceiving idiot who thought he'd been nice enough to deserve kindness. But he saw it as a sign that the good people of the world wanted nothing to do with him.

He was ugly, which was sin enough. He was unapologetic, which was unforgivable. And he didn't back down to them.

When he was younger and more innocent - not innocent, just more than he became - he had not been a cruel person. His first year in school had been devoted to studies. Potions were his all-consuming passion, and the Dark Arts were a close second. His parents encouraged him in their distant way, and he was in the House that catered to such things. So those interests grew. He didn't hex people with what he learned. He didn't brew potions to harm the other students. Yet by being who and what he was, he was looked at as cruel and despised. It was after that that he came to earn those looks.

Seamus Finnigan hadn't been the most noble in his House. He was forgetful with his studies and steered clear of fights and didn't seem to despise anyone at all. Nothing like Potter or his father, or Black. But light and good in his own way. A very strong way.

What made Seamus different? What made him see Snape's darkness and ugliness and bitterness and still see someone worth his love?

Snape didn't know, and he didn't think he would ever understand.

He winced suddenly when he remembered what he had first thought explained that mark on Seamus's neck. He had assumed, though he knew Seamus and knew how honest he was. He knew where that paranoia had come from, though. He had always had Seamus all to himself, with no one to take his interest away. Now his old friends were everywhere, bright and noble and just like him.

He didn't know what kept Seamus with him, and so didn't know if he would lose it or not. And bloody hell, if he had ever been told he'd fall into insecure jealousy over a young Gryffindor.

He sighed, and Seamus's nose wrinkled and he shifted. Severus leaned in before he could think, brushing thin lips over an eyelid moments before it opened.

Light green eyes were glazed, but they focused on him. Lips that were always warm and full stretched into a smile. "Good morning," came that soft Irish tenor.

Severus was still in his thoughts enough to not answer right away. He relaxed as Seamus looked at him, and those insecure fears faded into a far distant hum. "It's after lunch, actually."

Seamus blinked in surprise and sat up slowly. "You let me sleep too long."

"You looked as if you needed it," he answered.

Seamus thought about that and made a face. "I don't want to need it," he complained mildly. Severus knew he didn't expect an answer. It was a common enough complaint. "But I suppose you're right. I do feel rested."

"Good." Severus couldn't help smile.

Seamus leaned in and kissed him lightly. "Good afternoon, then," he said when he pulled back, stretching his arms over his head as the sheets fell to pool in his lap. The warm glow of golden skin made Snape's mouth water, and the glimpse of a bare hip under that sheet made his thoughts change direction entirely.

Seamus threw the covers off, unselfconscious, and curled his legs under him. "It's nice to sleep in, but it would be nicer if you'd join me now and then." He met Snape's eyes and instantly spots of pink appeared on his cheeks.

Severus saw the heat appear in Seamus's eyes, matching what must have been in his own.

"I just fell asleep on you last night, didn't I?" Seamus reached to stroke the backs of fingers down Severus's face, bringing warmth to cool skin. "That was incredibly rude of me."

Severus murmured a wordless agreement, sitting down more comfortably on the bed.

Seamus smiled, his eyes shining. "And you've come to demand I make it up to you, haven't you?"

"Considering how often it's my libido that lets us down, I can hardly fault you one night. "

Seamus laughed. "Don't be modest. It hardly suits you. Your libido has never let me down."

Snape chuckled, knowing it was true. It was the age difference that made him joke that way, but as if making up for lost time his body had never failed to answer the call when he needed it.

Like now.

He moved in and stroked a hand through soft blond hair. He searched Seamus's eyes. "You're feeling well, then? You slept nearly fourteen hours."

Seamus smiled, but since he knew how serious the question was intended, he didn't break the gaze. "I'm alright. Lazy, that's all. This bed's the nicest thing I've ever slept in."

Severus nodded, satisfied.

"Do I look that horrid?"

He snorted. He had yet to see Seamus look horrid, and he'd seen him in the worst situations a person could see another in. It was something that would have made Severus contemptuous of anyone else. But this attractiveness wasn't an annoyance, because it belonged to Severus.

He shook his head, the suprise of it all coming back to him as it did often.

Seamus slid his hand around the back of Severus's neck and pulled him in. "Don't you go thinking bad things. You're here, I'm here, this big beautiful bed is here. It's a sin, you know, not to accept the blessings you're given."

"At this point I've sinned enough for-"

"Severus."

He met Seamus's eyes, mouth twitching in a smile.

Seamus laughed. "Shut up." He tugged him in.

Severus moved in against his young lover. Their mouths met and mingled, familiar and comfortable. As strange as it was to him, comfort was something that was more important to him than he would have believed in his younger years.

He had asked Seamus once, long ago, at the beginning, what he would say if Snape demanded to tie him up and take him as roughly as he could. Asked with a sneer, back when he was still trying to convince his lover that he waas far too ugly and wicked to be with him.

Seamus had held out his wrists, cocked a careless smile, and granted Severus without a word all the power he needed. Trust in his eyes. A foreign sight back then.

But no longer. That same trust shone in Seamus's eyes as he pressed the young man back on his back. The same willingness to surrender all control was present in the way he kept his wrists resting on the pillow on either side of his head after Snape had pinned them.

Severus shook off his fears, that mark on his lover's neck that he knew boded poorly. He lost himself in soft, strong, heated flesh and soft sighs and moans. Comfortable, and still somehow the most passionate he'd felt since...the last time they had joined.

But careful. Always careful. There was too much to worry about. Severus cared less for his own health than Seamus did, but the fear in his lover's eyes any time there was the smallest chance he had passed on his illness made Severus sick to see.

He was probably the only wizard in London who kept a box of condoms beside his bed.

When they joined it was overpowering. Severus knew in those minutes with a certainty that was unshakeable that it didn't matter why Seamus was there, because there was obviously where he belonged.

It was only away from that bed and Seamus that Severusever forgotthat.


	18. Emotion

When Seamus awoke he announced it by turned his head and pressing lips against Severus's chest.

Severus brought a hand up to stroke through his hair. "Alright?"

"Mmm."

Seamus squirmed against him to get closer in a way that sent pleasant shivers through Severus's body.

"And no more silly cracks about your libido," Seamus murmured through heavy lips.

Severus chuckled.

Seamus's head lifted off his chest and turned up to look at him. "How did it go this morning, since I slept right through it?"

Severus waved a hand, grimacing. "Pointless. A cute story, at least so Granger seems to think, but nothing that could help us."

"Oh." Disappointment flashed through Seamus's eyes. "I'd hoped..."

"I know," Severus petted through his hair again. "But as we have neither a way to study high elf magic nor the ability to grant Potter the magic of house elves, it's completely irrelevant."

Seamus cocked his head, studying him. "But...well, is that what you were looking for? A stronger magic?"

"One that Potter is actually capable of would be nice."

Seamus frowned, turning his head and laying back against Severus's chest. "I guess I had the wrong idea."

Severus cleared his throat. He could hear Seamus's defeated tone, and though he usually had no patience for coddling, he recognized that Seamus was entirely out of his depth surrounded by magic he no longer used and problems he knew nothing about.

He glanced at the downturned face, seeing just a glimpse of skin past wild hair. "What was your idea?" he asked.

"I guess that the house elves still use magic like they would have used in the old days. No wands or words or anything, they just use what's there without filtering it at all." He shrugged awkwardly against Severus.

Severus nodded.

"Their magic is based on pure emotion rather than the effect they want it to have. It's more important to them why they're performing the magic than what they're actually attempting, and that..." He sighed, warm against Severus's skin. "I figured that must be how wizards used to do it."

Severus looked up at the ceiling, stroking fingertips up and down Seamus's back. "That's interesting."

"It's silly. I should have known-"

"Tell me why you saw the similarities there." Snape cast his tone more like the Professor he had been.

"You told me about the wizards before Merlin, the first ones. You said magic wasn't some ancient wonder passed down by the very first man, as some wizards like to think. It was an accident, right?"

Severus nodded.

"There were stories when I was growing up of normal Muggles who could do things that seemed like magic. An old mam in my town once held up a fallen beam from her roof to keep it from falling on her sick husband. She was feeble, but she did what few able-bodied young men could have done, until help arrived. My mam told me that she was maybe a witch who had never gotten a letter or a real education in magic. But I think she was an ordinary Muggle who tapped into magic somehow."

Severus smiled, unsurprised. "That sounds like something you would think."

"But that's magic, isn't it? And if a Muggle could make it work for her, and wizards back in the old days could move mountains with it, than it must be stronger than people think."

That was a point. People spoke of Old Magic as some strange awe-inspiring beast that had little in common with the magic of today. But magic itself didn't change; only how it was used.

"Go on," he said after a moment.

"Well, back in the old days, if they didn't know magic existed than they couldn't have been focused on what it was going to do. They made things happen simply by feeling so strongly and wanting so hard that they drew the magic in, right? They moved a mountain not by wanting a mountain moved, but by being so terrified of what would happen if that mountain stayed where it was that they couldn't help but get magic involved. "

It was more complicated than that, but Severus knew the basic idea was correct.

"So the difference is that back then they used magic based on emotion and need, and now we use magic based on convenience and expectation." Seamus looked up. "Right?"

"Right."

"I guess that's why Poddy's stories struck me. The reason the house elves make magic happen is just because they love and they care so much. They don't want what we want, they just love us so hard that the magic happens regardless. They control it more now than they used to, I imagine, but wouldn't it still be basically the same?"

Severus frowned. It was simplistic, that was the problem. Severus didn't trust simple answers. There was also no decent way to translate what house elves did to something that Potter could learn. He said as much out loud after a moment.

Seamus bit his lip, studying Severus's face as if the answer was there somehow. "But it doesn't need to be learned, does it? It's just what happens when you feel deeply enough."

"Seamus." Severus made his voice more gentle than he was used to. "Potter can't go to the Dark Lord's cell and simply hate him dead."

Seamus flushed. "You're right. I just..."

"There is nothing incorrect in anything you said," Severus added. "You understand a great deal more than you think you do. But if hating someone were enough to kill them, Potter would be dead ten times over. I've seen the Dark Lord. I know how he hates."

Seamus sighed and curled in to Severus. "It's a shame he hates so hard. He might have learned that hatred isn't the most powerful emotion to have towards someone."

Severus already knew the answer before he asked the question. "And what do you suppose the most powerful emotion is?" He sat up, letting Seamus extricate himself. "Care for tea?"

Seamus sat up after him, stretching his limbs langorously. "Yes, thanks." He smiled and scruffed a hand through his hair. "Love. Obviously."

Severus moved across the room to grab his robe. He glanced at the tub he had filled as he first went in that morning. It was still steaming with charmed water. "Clean yourself if you want."

Seamus glanced at the tub and grinned. Severus watched with a smirk, then turned to go to the small kitchen and his teapot. "I'm not sure you're right about that," he said as he moved.

"Why not?" The sounds of splashing water came through the doorway. A groan followed, as throaty and pleasured as any noise Severus could wring out of him.

Severus chuckled and set water in the pot to boiling, waving his wand at cups and saucers to get them loaded on a tray. "Because whenever I have seen a wizard do something extraordinary, it was always done out of hatred. Not love."

He waved the tray out the door back to the bedroom. "Love leads to sonnets and charmed valentines. Hatred leads to great and powerful things."

Seamus, sunk in the tub down to his chin, studied him. "You believe that."

Severus gestured the tea tray to the table nearest the tub as he slid his robe off. He approached and climbed into the water, sighing as the warmth made his limbs tingle.

Seamus shifted, moving in to him with a sponge in his hand. He set to work, taking Severus's right arm and gliding the soft sponge to his shoulder and back down. "Do you know what I think?"

"I can guess," Snape answered, his voice a murmur as he sank against the stone and tilted his head back.

Seamus moved to the other arm. "I think hatred can make you do big things. But without love there wouldn't even be hate. I think love is a hundred times more powerful."

"That's because you're a silly child."

The soft thwack of a sponge against his chest made him smile without opening his eyes.

"No. Because it's true." Seamus slid the sponge down, and Severus felt it tickle over his stomach and back up. He sighed.

"Without love, hate can't exist. Do you know who taught me that?"

Severus's eyebrows rose. "I can't imagine."

"You did, eejit."

His eyes opened. He looked at Seamus in quiet surprise, snorting more out of reflex than anything.

Seamus smiled, sliding in close and tangling his legs with Snape's to reach around and wash his back, gentle and firm. "When I was on my own before you found me, I felt hatred for the Death Eaters who killed my parents. I didn't feel any hate towards them for what it had done to me. I didn't hate the wizarding world for leaving me behind and never even coming to look for me. I didn't hate the people I fell in with, though there were some I really should have hated."

Severus nodded. The soft tickle of sponge went down his lower back and soothed over the top of his arse, but it was just a pleasant tingle in the background.

"Once I met you and loved you, I changed. I got happier in so many ways. I also began to hate those Death Eaters for taking me away. I began to hate the Ministry for not investigating and finding me. I despised some of those people in Belfast. And do you know why I started to hate?"

Snape didn't bother answering. He studied his young lover, taking in his quiet earnestness.

"Because you made me start to love myself again. And only when I could love myself could I muster up the energy or will to hate the people who hurt me. I hated my parents being killed because I loved them, but I didn't love myself enough, not for a long time after. When you don't love anything, you don't hate either. You resent, or get annoyed, but the power behind hate comes from the power of love."

Severus shook his head after a moment. "I have hated. Before you, I hated."

"You love yourself, Severus. And I'm glad of it. You love yourself because no one else ever had, and you hated them for it. But if you hadn't cared about yourself you wouldn't have hated them for teasing you in school, or You Know Who for having power over you."

"It's not that easy."

"Of course it is. If you see a stranger being hurt, how do you feel? Sorry, maybe, or disgusted, or sympathetic. But if you see someone you love being hurt...you feel rage and hate, and you would do anything to make it stop. Right?"

He thought about it. His eyelids slid shut as Seamus's attention went back to his front, the sponge sliding over his hips to his thighs. He decided to go along for the time being. "And whom does the Dark Lord love? He hates enough for a hundred people; who could he love enough to cause that?"

Seamus hesitated. "I don't know. The only things I've heard of him were the horror stories we were all told as children. I don't know anything of his life, back when he had one. He was normal once, and had regular emotions. Something must have made him what he is now, but I don't know what it is."

Severus shrugged. "He wouldn't speak of his old life to us, except to express his hatred. None of us ever dared try to learn more than he would volunteer."

"Still and all, for us normal human beings I'd say that love still wins out over hate." Seamus leaned in to Severus, drawing a hand up his chest. "I mean, look at us. I'll not go into too much detail, since I know you can only handle so much romantic rubbish in one day, but. I'll never feel anything stronger than what I feel for you. Not any emotion towards any person."

Severus raised his eyebrows, looking down at the boy nestled against his neck. "You can't know that."

"I don't have too long a life ahead of me, Severus."

Severus's arm moved to lock around Seamus's back, holding him in. The water shifted around them, a warm cocoon.

"There are some things I'm certain about. I'm certain I don't want to die with any regrets. I'm certain that the only thing I would ever regret would be losing you."

Severus shook his head, silent and wondering.


	19. Gone

"Remus, tell me what you...oh." Harry slid to a stop.

Remus sat up from his comfortable slouch, pulling away enough to put visible space between him and his guest. Space that hadn't been there before.

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Oi, hero! Come on in if you're going to burst in and interrupt everybody."

Harry's face hardened as he moved in and shut the door behind him. "I have permission to burst in here whenever I feel like it," he stated, words clipped. His eyes went from Dom to Remus.

Remus, to his shock, blushed. "It's alright, Harry, come in. What were you saying?"

Harry didn't look at the way Dom's body was angled in to Remus, or how flushed he was. He didn't look at Dom at all. "Can I talk to you alone?"

Remus smiled. "Dom's safe, Harry. He's being inducted into the Order soon." His eyes met Harry's though, silently asking if it was truly private.

Harry wanted to commuunicate that it was. But he met grey eyes and grimaced, knowing Remus would see through him. "You knew we were talking to Poddy this morning."

Remus nodded, and to Harry's great irritation he glanced at Dom. "Poddy is a house elf who claims to have some useful information."

Dom nodded, leaning back with his arm stretched over the back of the sofa. As if he were at home there.

Harry looked away from him. "You didn't show up."

Remus leaned forward, picking up a glass from the coffee table. "I've heard stories of the house elves' origins before. It was nothing new."

"You dildn't tell us?" Harry's voice snapped.

"I wasn't sure which part Poddy was implying would be useful," Remus answered. There was a question in his eyes.

"Well, none of it was. Load of nonsense about high elves and ceremonies. Snape was there," he added.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Was he?"

"Yes."

Remus sighed when Harry didn't go on. "Have a seat. Let's talk this out."

"I'm fine." He turned to Dom, since the man insisting on being present. "What're you doing here?"

"Harry."

Dom waved at Remus. "This is Remus's room, isn't it? Guess that means Remus wants me here."

Harry bristled at what was obviously a challenge. "That's so, is it? How long until you tell Death Eaters where we are and let them in to kill us?"

"Harry!" Remus's voice was sharp suddenly.

"Wasn't me, mate. Someone else let them in."

"You were the person who knew the way. According to Percy you're one of the only ones. That was your whole job there, to guide people. Even the Unspeakables couldn't get to that rooms without you."

Dom leaned in, elbows on his thighs, grabbing a glass half full of amber liquid. "Percy Weasley's a big-mouthed prat."

"Yes, he is, but he's also right most of the time."

"Doesn't matter. I didn't bloody do it." Dom met his glare with annoying steadiness, though there was something in his gaze Harry didn't like. Something shifty.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Harry, stop it."

Harry turned to Remus. "Why do you trust him? You don't even know him."

Remus's expression was tight, almost hurt. "I told you to stop."

"Because he's a werewolf, right?" Harry shook his head. "They probably planned that when they told him to come here."

"Bit paranoid, aren't you?"

"Dom." Remus hesitated. "Let us talk alone for a few minutes."

Dom studied him, then shrugged and stood. "You're a glutton for punishment, Remus." He turned.

And went to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Harry stared. "He isn't leaving? Why's he going in there?"

"Harry. Come here and sit down."

Harry felt horror overtaking him. He flinched, wide eyes going to Remus. "You're not. You are not bloody shagging that...that!"

"Sit i down /i , Harry!"

Harry gaped at Remus. He sat down almost gingerly. "I don't believe it. You're not. You can't be."

"What I'm not doing," Remus replied, "is answering that. If you came in here to talk to me about something, I'd advise you to do it, and do it like the adult you have demanded to be treated as, and not some jealous child."

Harry drew back, shock filling him. He stared at the anger in Remus's eyes, so unlike him.

But even as he watched the anger softened. "Dom is a werewolf, yes. He is also rather good company, and he is fast becoming a friend of mine. He is - as everyone is I hope you realize - innocent until proven guilty. He has told me what he knows, and I believe him. That should be good enough for you."

Harry frowned. "Fine. You're right. I was rude. I wasn't expecting him here, and Percy said it really looked like he might have..." Remus's expression was starting to harden again, so Harry stopped.

There was an awkward pause. Harry looked away from Remus, and away from the two matching glasses and the bottle of Remus's favorite scotch. His eyes trailed over familiar battered old furniture, mismatched but cozy.

"You spoke to Poddy? And learned nothing useful?" Remus spoke as if none of the last minutes had happened.

Harry jumped on it gratefully. "Right. Snape said it was a waste of time. Hermione, too." And that, of course, made it incontrovertible fact.

"Why a waste?"

"Well, because. If their magic was granted by some elves that aren't around anymore, it's not something I could just study from a book, is it? It's not something I can learn."

Remus studied him. "Why not?"

"Because. I can't. I'm not a house elf."

"Harry, there are always things to learn from stories like that. "

"Like what? Like if I slave away happily for a more powerful race maybe they'll be nice and give me some of their magic?"

Remus smiled, and things were back on track again. "That's something to test out on another day, I think. Did you learn anything about why the house elves' magic is more powerful than ours?"

"Because it came from those other elves?"

Remus waited.

Harry sighed and thought about it, as he knew he was supposed to. "Because they were obedient. No...because they were happy to be obedient." He hesitated, frowning. "Because they cared about the other elves?"

Remus nodded. "Because they cared about everything. Because their magic came from a place of light. To this day not even the most powerful dark magic has been found to counter house elf magic. What does that tell you?"

Harry leaned in, brow furrowed. "Light magic is stronger."

"Maybe that's a clue in itself." Remus smiled. "Maybe Severus was right, and throwing the killing curse at Voldemort has no effect because it adds dark to dark."

Harry sighed. "Fine. So tell me a light and loving spell to kill someone, and I'll go after him with that."

Remus laughed. "I didn't say I had all the answers."

The owl came at a very crucial moment in the brewing of the potion he made for himself. As if planned to ruin his day, like every other time the damned Death Eaters had invaded his life.

He heard the pecking at his door and set the cauldron to simmer. It wouldn't take long for the difficult potion to sear beyond use, so he moved to the door and shoved a sickle at the bird as he unwrapped the scroll. He slammed the door on an annoyed squawk and made his way back to the table.

The sight of jagged writing drove the potion from his mind. He stopped in his tracks and went to the top of the letter, reading.

_That was a cozy home you had in Ireland. And a cozy home you have now. A pity, then, that traitors aren't allowed to have nice things. Or to share them with little Irish Mudbloods._

_We will see you dead, traitor. But first, we will take it all from you. _

There was no signature, but Malfoy was all over the note.

Draco had been a challenge for him. Like all the Slytherins his path was a tricky one. Snape had tried his hardest, in every way he could, to convince the young Malfoy of the foolishness of slavery at the Dark Lord's hands. But of course there had been little he could do. Malfoy was his father's son, and if the boy had gotten the idea that Snape wasn't loyal, he would have gone straight to Lucius.

_But first, we will take it all from you. _

He frowned, eying the table full of ingredients laid out waiting to be mixed in. His potion was already ruined, but...

And then his chest started to ache and his mind started to work overtime. Malfoy knew about Seamus. He knew where Snape had lived and destroyed it. He had someone at Hogwarts.

i Little Irish Mudbloods... /i

He grabbed at his chest, groping under his shirt for the charm they both wore. i _Where are you/i _

There was no answer.

He was out the door and charging up the stairs towards the man floor of Hogwarts faster than he could think. "Poddy!"

The house elf appeared and instantly darted to follow. "Yes, Severus Snape?"

"Where is Seamus?"

"Poddy is not knowing, sir. Poddy is helping with the lunch for Harry Po-"

"Find him! Now!"

Poddy vanished.

Snape focused his energy on the necklace, speaking low under his breath the words of an old, powerful charm.

The other necklace was near.

He moved, led on by a magic that guided his legs. Towards the doors. Out to the grounds. Around the side of the castle and towards the lake.

Bloody fool child, always taking walks in this cold air though he was getting sicker.

Another pop brought Poddy, and round eyes told Snape all he needed to know. "Poddy is not finding"

"Shut up and look harder. " He was almost out of breath. The boy was there. Somewhere. He had to be.

Poddy whimpered and vanished again.

It was close. Snape put on a burst of speed, moving away from the edge of the lake and to a spot of trees. He tried not to realize that if he kept going in this direction he would reach Hogsmeade. The edge of the grounds. The edge of the anti-apparation charms.

He pulled his necklace free of his shirt and grasped it.

A glint of light, discarded and out of place, answered from the roots of a tree near him.


	20. Cold Comfort

Percy Weasley broke the news, interrupting one of their mind-bogglingly dull library sessions.

Harry had been as productive as usual - just on the verge of an open-eyed nap when the door opened and Percy came in, all stiff and well-kempt priggishness.

"Oh, great. Spot of joy on my horizon." Ron made no attempt to hide his dislike.

Percy sniffed, but his eyes were grim. "Professor Dumbledore has sent me to speak to you. There's been an attack."

"Another one?" Hermione sat up.

Harry groaned. "Tell me he's not free."

Percy shook his head. "He Who Must Not Be Named is still safe in his prison, though there have been suspicious occurrences at the Ministry of late. No, the attack was right here, this morning."

"What?" Harry stood up instantly. "Remus! Is Remus...?"

"As I understand it, Seamus Finnigan is missing. No one heard or saw a thing, and no one else was hurt at all."

"Seamus?" Hermione gasped, wide eyes going to Ron and Harry. "Oh no!"

"Professor Snape received a message he believes was sent from the grounds as the attack happened. Draco Malfoy is the main suspect."

" i Fucking Malfoy /i ."

It wasn't the first time they had run in to their old enemy. Their auror work had brought them into close contact more than a few times.

"Ron." Hermione was too distracted to really chastise, though. "We've got to get him back. He only just found us again." She stood up, grabbing Ron's arm since he was in easy reach. "Come on. We'll talk to Dumbledore and figure out how to help."

Ron went along without a word, pushing past Percy. "C'mon, Harry."

Harry hesitated for a moment, seeing a grimace on Percy's face. "Is that all you know so far?"

Percy shrugged, chin raising higher in the air. "I'm sure it's all that matters."

Harry Potter was a great many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He wasn't the brightest, maybe, and not always the most perceptive. But he wasn't completely stupid.

He knew, for instance, that knocking on the door was a bad idea. Snape wasn't going to be in the best of moods, and Harry wasn't a person Snape ever wanted to see.

But he wanted to knock. He felt he had to knock.

So he knocked.

The door flew open and black eyes narrowed the moment they saw him. "News?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then leave me alone."

The door slammed shut.

Harry sighed. He turned away from the door. Then he proved that maybe he was stupid after all by turning and knocking again.

"_What?_"

"I need to talk to you," Harry said.

Snape opened the door only as much as he absolutely had to to fit through, and it shut behind him. "Talk then. I'm in the middle of important potions. "

Harry squared his jaw. "I'm sorry, alright?" That ought to shut the git up.

Snape responded more characteristically than Harry had thought to give him credit for. "Go to hell, Potter. You don't have any idea what you're talking about. You didn't then, and you don't now."

"Which 'then' are you talking about?" Harry asked as Snape turned as if to go back in hiding.

"Any of them, dolt!" Snape stayed turned, his voice low. "You came into this world an ignorant Muggle-raised boy who knew nothing. You took the first opinions you heard as fact. You made snap judgements that you have somehow managed to keep from changing with age or experience. You're as foolish as any I have ever taught, and right now I don't want to be burdoned with your presence."

Snape went back into his quarters and slammed the door hard enough to make stone corridors echo.

Remus Lupin was a lot of things, but insensitive was not one of them. At least he liked to hope not.

He knocked on the door softly, in his own way apologetic. He could imagine the sort of curses going on behind the heavy door as he waited.

Finally it opened. "Lupin." Black eyes stared out at him.

Remus smiled tightly. "May we speak?"

"Not if you've come to beg my indulgence of that idiot ward of yours."

He held his hands up, palms out. Unarmed. "I'll not mention his name."

Snape hesitated, searching Remus's face.

Remus was not Snape's friend; a fact he was painfully aware of every time those black eyes turned his way. But he did know Snape. He had known him as long as he knew his oldest friends. Not well, but he had been a background audience to Snape's entire life. He saw Snape in his first year at Hogwarts, pale and different. He saw, though he didn't pay much attention, as Snape was sorted and fell into a group of Slytherins more polished and sophisticated than him. He saw the boy vanish into studies and books. He saw him the victim of Remus's own friends, and he saw Snape's reactions grow more violent as years went on.

He saw the Slytherins Snape played tagalong to grow more twisted, and when they left school Remus said good riddance and knew they would all end up footsoldiers to this new evil that called itself Voldemort.

He joined the Order and heard about, though he didn't see himself, Snape showing up at Hogwarts one summer, confessing his sins and submitting to Dumbledore's will. His penance was set at a life of spying and double crosses. Most likely a death sentence, but Snape obeyed.

Remus had never liked Snape, though he was the first to admit he had never gotten to know him. Then Remus lost those incredible men he called his best friends, and without their influence he was left to develop his own opinions and ideas, and he saw Snape through a new light.

Not pleasant, of course. Snape was never pleasant. But there was more to good and bad than smiles and manners. What Snape was doing was good, and though Snape complained, loudly and often, he never threatened to quit.

He was alone, and Remus could sympathise.

They were not friends. But Remus could read his expressions. He saw something flicker in Snape's eyes in the pause after Remus spoke, something that seemed important.

Snape opened the door and moved back inside.

Remus hesitated then moved into the quarters. He had never seen those rooms before, and he looked around for just a moment before focusing his attention on Snape. "Are you alright?"

Snape snorted and moved to a pile of books on a table, half of them open and the other half shoved in a precarious stack. "I'm busy. If you're here for small talk you can turn around and leave."

"Asking how you are at a time like this isn't small talk."

Snape's eyes flickered up to him. "I'm well enough."

Remus studied him. He had no idea what to make of Seamus Finnigan living with Snape, and no idea how Snape would feel with Seamus missing. "Severus...my ward,who shall remain nameless, is worried about you. Given that he has never shown concern for you before, it worried me in turn."

Snape laughed unpleasantly. "What's wrong with Potter? Is he afraid poor Finnigan has fallen into more evil hands than mine?"

Remus shrugged. "Harry is paranoid about you. He's paranoid about everyone. I won't make excuses for him. I just want to know how you're doing."

Snape slammed a book shut, and when he looked up Remus noticed that he was a good deal more pale and drawn than usual. He rubbed at his left arm, grimacing, and fell into his chair. "I've told you I am well. Ask a dozen more times and the answer will stay the same. If that's all, you can leave me the hell alone."

Remus moved in, seeing the blanch and hearing the controlled way he spoke. He saw the brightness of black eyes and frowned. "You're in pain."

Snape bared his teeth, but didn't answer.

"What's wrong? Your arm...?"

"Yes, my bloody arm." Snape stood and went to a table against the wall where two cauldrons sat bubbling. He peered into one.

"Severus. What's going on?"

"Do you honestly think the Dark Lord has no way of getting back at people who betray him?" Snape's voice was hard, condescending. "Do you think he gives us Marks because he is fond of tattoos?"

Remus paled. "He hurts you through the Mark? How long...?"

"Years, if you have to know. Since the day he found out about my betrayal. He's quite talented at dealing out pain. I believe it's why he never looked for me, though he must have known I was alive. Because of this." He raised his sleeve, rubbing at his Mark. Remus caught a glimpse of black and shocking red. "He has driven his betrayers mad using this. Regulus Black." He glanced at Remus. "Sirius Black never cared to know how his brother died. I could have told him. He died in agony, crying out his brother's name like a lost child."

Remus winced.

"That's what the Dark Lord does. He punishes. If you displease him he deals out pain. If you please him he deals out pain, just so you don't forget your place."

"How do you live?" Remus asked, staring at his arm.

"In time I was able to come up with the proper mix of pain draughts."

"You should have told someone," Remus said, knowing the pain of going through such hardships alone.

"To what end? I am the only one who could have found the potion that wouldallow me to live normally. I would have received no sympathy or aid."

"That's not..." Remus hesitated. He liked to think he would have helped, but at the time Snape disappeared there were so many battles and problems and more immediate needs.

Snape nodded as if he appreciated Remus not lying to him. He dropped his hand, revealing the Mark - or what was left of it.

Remus breathed in. "Merlin! "

"It drives men mad. Stronger men than me." Snape's voice was quiet. "I'm not the first to try to end the suffering in desperate ways. But the Mark is deeper than skin, and no matter how I sliced the pain remained."

Remus reached a hand out to puffed, ferocious scars. "Merlin," he said again. His heart ached, never used to the horrors of war and the evil that caused it. He stopped before he could touch it, staring at the damage.

Severus jerked his arm away. "Stop, Lupin. If you want to gape go ahead, but wipe that look off your face that says you're trying to be concerned."

Remus jerked his eyes from the Mark to Severus's face. "I am concerned. I'm alarmed. This is too big for you to have dealt with alone, Severus. I wish-"

"Wishes are pointless. They're also too easily made to be sincere most of the time. You can bloody well keep them to yourself, because I don't need them." Snape turned away.

There was a pause, and when Snape spoke again his voice was softer. "And I wasn't alone. Not after the beginning."

Seamus. "I'm glad, then. I'm glad he's been a comfort to you."

Snape stared at the two cauldrons. He went to the second, peering down into it with an odd look on his face.

Remus stood, awkward. He was about to make whatever graceful exit he could manage when Snape spoke.

"The first time he told me he loved me I laughed. And not nicely."

Remus hesitated. "You thought he was lying?"

"No." Snape's mouth curved up faintly. "He is a ridiculously bad liar." He shook his head, looking away from Remus. "I thought he was insane. I thought he was fooling himself, or desperate." He rubbed at his arm, paling as a tremor shivered through him. "It was when I first told him about this, about why I had to take a potion every few days. That was his response. Love."

There was a slight echo of a sneer in Snape's tone, and Remus understood. He was well acquainted with that feeling of being unloveable. He imagined it would be hard to believe if anyone ever said it to him. Harry had said it in a rare moment of weakness, but that was a different sort of love.

"He's an idiot," Snape said after a moment. "Taking those walks. He should never have been where they could get him. Foolish, ridiculous child."

"Will Malfoy kill him?"

"Probably." Snape's eyes went back to the cauldron. "If he's gone for too long he'll die with or without Malfoy's help."

Remus frowned.

Snape shook his head. "I've got work to do, Lupin. Is there anything else?"

"Severus..."

Dark, pained eyes glanced his way.

Remus was shocked. Not from the emotion in Snape's eyes but from the fact that he could see it, that Snape's shields were so weak. "Alright. You know where I am, should you need anything."

"Fine." Snape turned and strode back to his table and the books he was reading.

Remus left, uncertain if he should feel better or worse than he had before he knocked on that door.


	21. Waiting

Hogsmeade was bright and active when Harry and Ron arrived, the shops all open and bustling, and the air was spirited. Shopkeeps stood in their doorways, cajoling passing wizards with promises of the best prices. Shouts passed over each other, voices in the streets were louder to compensate, and everything seemed much more lively than Harry could ever remember.

"Bit of a headache, isn't it?" Ron read his mind, looking around in amusement.

"I guess things are more relaxed lately." Harry smiled - he had been at Hogwarts since the day he had brought Voldemort in, and he hadn't known how the outside world was responding.

"Harry Potter!" A passing boy, tiny and thin the way Harry must have looked at his age, tugged at the arm of his father and pointed.

Harry smiled and waved.

"In a good mood today, then?"

Harry shrugged. "Why not? Look around. There's actually more to the world than magic and books and dark lords. It's a good thing to remember now and then."

"Mm hm. Just hope no one heard that kid, or your good mood's going to get tested. "

Someone had heard. An older couple, wearing pressed, rich robes and carrying bags of purchases, came at Harry from the side. "Harry Potter! Wonderful!"

The woman extended a hand weighed down with stones and silver. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Potter! The world owes you so much."

Harry glanced around, seeing other eyes on him. "Right. Thanks. No problem."

Ron tugged at his other arm. "There's the shop we wanted, Harry, come on."

Harry grinned at the couple. "Sorry. Loads to do." He ducked into the shop with Ron quickly. "Forgot about that part of it."

Ron shot him a smirk. "Right. I know you hate it." He grinned around at the store. "Oi, Harry. I haven't been here in years!"

Harry smiled at the never-changing interior of Zonko's. "It's not quite the twins' store, is it?"

"No competition," Ron said proudly. "Still." He went to the nearest rack and explored happily.

Harry sighed, paying the gags and jokes no attention. It was nice to get out of the castle. Things were too tense there. The hours in the library were frustrating everyone. Remus and his new 'friend' had taken to joining them, which didn't help Harry's mood.

Ron flashed a dangerous-looking spiked ball. "Look at this! Says here if you throw it against a wall and it sticks, it turns the whole wall invisible! Crikey, the twins would kill for this!" He cast a surruptitious look around. "Let me get this, and we can be off."

They set out down the road a minute later, Ron clutching his bag happily. "They'll owe me big for this!"

At the Three Broomsticks they turned and went in. Harry grinned at the familiar sight of Madame Rosmerta, looking as if she hadn't aged a day.

"What do you think, Ron?"

Ron blushed the color of his hair. "I'm getting married, Harry. Can't be holding on to old schoolboy...she's bloody gorgeous."

Harry laughed as they went to the bar and sat. "Hullo, Rosmerta."

"Harry! Ronald Weasley! It's been ages!" She started two mugs of butterbeer, always on top of her customers' favorites. "What have you been doing with yourselves? Besides putting a stop to evil warlords, of course."

Harry grinned. "Just the usual."

"I heard you both became aurors?"

"Yeah. But I might leave as soon as this thing with Voldemort's done with."

Ron turned to Harry instantly. "What? You never said anything like that before!"

Harry shrugged, flushing. "Just something I've been thinking about. It doesn't matter."

"Not on, mate! We're talking about this!"

"Here you go, boys. I'll leave you to this little delimna I've caused." She smiled, charming as always. "I'll be back to catch up."

Ron hardly noticed her leave. "We're supposed to be in this together! All three of us, always."

Harry sighed, taking a swallow of his butterbeer. "I told myself that when Voldemort was dead, I was through fighting. It's getting to be too much. I want to...have a life of my own."

"What about us?" Ron demanded.

"You'll get married and be happy." Harry shrugged. "I'll come over and spoil your children, and try to find out what else I might be meant to do."

"But..." Ron was red-faced. "You'll go starking mad from boredom in a week."

"I don't think I will."

"This is not bloody on."

He laughed. "Ron, it's alright. It's not like I'm running away and never coming back. I just want to take a break and waste all that money I've got lying around, and spoil myself a little for once."

Ron made a face, draining his butterbeer. He set the glass on the bar hard enough to draw a sound of protest from Rosmerta. "Okay, maybe that does sound nice," he answered resentfully. "You could have told me."

"I don't really know. I didn't really even consider it until that day at the Ministry. That annoying loudmouthed werewolf talking about what I owe the world and how I should do something with my life when I was done saving the world. It made me realise that I'd been trying to do exactly that, and it's stupid. I don't owe anyone anything."

"Course you don't, mate. But..." Ron sighed. "Wish you'd told me."

"I just did."

"Funny, Harry."

His quarters were empty. Just as he remembered from his teaching years.

Empty and silent, waiting for him to do anything he wanted. No demands to be met, no questions to answer. No chirping, childish voice distracting him from his work. No silly face lit up at the promise of something as ridiculous as a soak in a bath.

No one forced him to dinner that night, and his stomach rumbled and was ignored. No one pushed him to come to bed, for sleep or pleasure or any other reason, so he didn't realize it was obscenely late until he found himself nodding off by his books.

He ought to sleep, he figured. His mind was sharp but his body was tired. He had finished his potion hours ago, and swallowed it down like the bitter brew it was, and now the new batch was bubbling away merrily. It would be safe to let go until the morning, when he would have to take it again. But Seamus's cauldron sat, ready to turn and go bad. He would have to start a new one.

He regarded the useless potion and tugged out his wand. With a dark feeling he cleaned the cauldron. The ingredients were already cut and measured out and ready to start again.

But was there any point?

He was cynical at the best of times, and Seamus was in the hands of a man he wouldn't be able to get away from. Not when the boy had no wand. Not even if he did have a wand. Not with his hesitancy to cause pain to anyone.

He was probably dead. To think anything else was simple idiot fool hope, and he hadn't been capable of that in years.

He sighed and tucked his wand into his robe, and turned away. Moving to the door into the bedroom his eyes caught on the empty tub. The bed, large and soft and his one true luxury for years.

A minute later he was back at his table, fire going under the cauldron and ingredients carefully arranged to be added in their proper time.

Harry was jolted awake by a thundering knock on the door.

He shot out of bed, reflexes at the ready. Sleep was gone from his mind and his wand was in his hand before he realized what was going on.

"Harry!" It was Remus.

"Come in! What?"

The door opened and Remus flew in. "Get dressed. "

"Why? What's going on?" Harry grabbed dirty slacks from the floor even as he asked.

"Voldemort is awake."


	22. Awake

The man showing the way through the Department of Mystery hallways was robed, well-kempt, and blessedly silent. He moved with urgency, as if what they were doing was important.

Harry tried not to resent Dom, he really did.

He followed Dom's replacement through the needlessly puzzling hallways. No one spoke to ask questions, because what needed to be asked? Of course the wards were still in place, the security hadn't been breeched. There would have been bigger fuss if it had.

No, it just was what it was. Voldemort had woken up. Somehow, though the wards protected against it, he was getting stronger.

Harry glaced to his side, noting the grim set of Albus's face. They were no closer to any decent answers. They were as confused as they had been at the start. Harry was a step away from listening to Ron; going into London, buying a gun and just shooting the bastard until, immortal or not, there weren't enough whole limbs to make any magic.

They stepped through the invisible wall and to the door where two guards were standing, wands in their hands, grim set to their jaws. They nodded in respect to Albus and stepped away from the door. "Only you two, those are our orders."

Albus examined the door. "He is still not strong enough to move?"

"We don't think so. Every time we look in he's just laying there."

"We will go in, but once we're gone let no one else enter, not even yourselves. He will not reveal to you when his strength has returned."

"Yes sir," came the instant answer.

Harry stepped through the door after Albus.

The room was still small, still bare. The cot Voldemort lay on was lost in the wash of white that painted everything else, and for a moment Harry had the disconcerting feeling that the figure was floating.

His eyes were open. Harry saw that instantly, the reds of his pupils shocking against all the white.

Albus stood beside the bed with robes flowing, beard and hat and all, and next to that Voldemort seemed diminished.

Harry moved in next to Albus, watching for any sign of movement.

The eyes shifted, looking towards them. They landed on Albus, then shifted to Harry and narrowed.

Harry frowned. Honestly, it was almost depressing to see him that way. Voldemort was evil and had to be stopped, there was no doubt about that. But he had always been strong.

"Tom." Albus spoke, drawing those red, angled eyes back to him. "You know that it's over."

No reaction. Harry wondered if he was capable of moving anything but his eyes. There was a harshness to his face, but it may have been the lighting or the strain of trying to move.

Harry sighed. He didn't know what was to be gained by visiting. He had no urge to rub in his victory, and Albus seemed too solemn to be victorious. He seemed sad.

They left the room soon after, and Albus repeated his command for no one else to go in or out. No meals, no water, nothing. Harry didn't expect that would weaken him much - no doubt Voldemort was past the point of needing food.

When they left through the long paths of the Department of Mysteries and apparated back to Hogsmeade for the walk back, they stayed silent and lost in their own thoughts.

Snape stopped when he saw the werewolf coming out of Lupin's quarters.

The man saw him and flashed a smirk as cocky and irritating as anything either Potter had ever shown. "Oi, mate. Out of the dungeons for once?"

Snape bared his teeth. "Why are you still in this castle?"

The werewolf, Dom, shrugged. "Sanctuary. Your Dumbledore's protecting me from those nasty aurors."

Snape moved up to him, invading the man's space, smelling tobacco and Scotch.

"Oi! What's you're problem?"

He glared with the darkest stare he could manage, which was saying a lot. "My problem is, since you arrived here there have been leaks to Death Eaters. You came in a suspected collaborator. I don't trust you and I don't like you. We're not all as gullible as Lupin."

Something in the werewolf's eyes flickered. "You're on the wrong track, mate, and if I were you I'd watch what you say."

Snape's lip curled. He was careful not to let himself think that the werewolf had probably caused Seamus's disappearance. If he thought about that, the man would die quickly and painfully. Not that his conscience would bother him, but he didn't think Lupin and Albus would be as quick to excuse it. "Watch your step, wolf."

"Right." Dom pushed past him suddenly, tromping down the hallway.

Guilty as the bloody Dark Lord himself, Snape thought. He just had to find the slightest shred of proof.

Poddy was in the kitchens directing the hustle of the other elves with a certainty that made Harry wonder just how long the elf had been there. He had never met Poddy before that summer, but there was no telling how long he had been around. He certainly acted as if he had run of everything.

"Harry Potter!" A familiar, high and squeaky voice said his name.

Harry turned to look and smiled. "Winky. I didn't know you were still here."

"Oh, yes, sir! Winky would never leave Hogwarts! Winky is being so honored as to receive a cut in pay!"

Harry grinned. "That's wonderful."

"Yes, sir! Albus Dumbledore is truly great!"

Harry patted the house elf. "I've got to speak to Poddy, if you don't mind."

"I'll get him for you!" She brightened at the chance to do something and darted over to Poddy.

He saw Harry and smiled, coming over seconds later. "Harry Potter."

Harry crouched down. "I'd like to talk to you about that story you told us."

Poddy brightened. "Poddy is wondering when you would ask."

Harry studied him. "You told Seamus that you thought that story would help us figure out how to kill Voldemort."

The house elf cringed at the name, but nodded.

"Well...I don't understand how it helps."

Poddy tilted his round head, looking surprised. "Harry Potter is not understanding on his own?"

"No, and neither are any of his...er, _my _friends."

"House elves is having the strongest magic there is today, Harry Potter. The i Ljonsalfar /i used to be strongest, but they is gone now. It is us who is strongest now, and it is because our magic is coming from more powerful places."

Harry shook his head. "I don't understand. Where is it coming from?"

"Is from our hearts, sir."

Harry sighed, sitting on the floor in front of the elf. "What does that mean?"

"It's meaning what it's meaning, sir. We is feeling the magic more. We is getting the magic from inside of us, not from wands or charms like the wizards do. Is meaning it more than wizards."

Harry frowned.

"Harry Potter is wanting to understand how to understand." Poddy frowned, tugging at his ear. "Is not being a lesson one can teach another. I'm sorry, Harry Potter, but Poddy is not knowing how to make you understand."

The grounds of Hogwarts were lonely at night. No Hagrid in the distance walking his huge beast of a dog, no children sneaking around just waiting to be docked house points.

He wasn't sure he understood what Seamus saw that kept bringing him out there, risking his health. It was just...the grounds. Same as they ever were. The lake glittered in the distance, lined with trees - painful now to look at, but he let the two matching charms jangle together around his neck and didn't think about it.

The cold air was a pleasant reminder of home. There was truly no comparison to fresh, winter-chilled air.

It was too bloody quiet. There was no distraction from thoughts.

He taught students who grew up in his sight but left to take their own place in the world. He loved no one and no one loved him, and so nothing in his life was permanent. He had never longed for permanence. Never wanted to grow attached. Certainly never wanted to be dependent.

Why, in the name of Slytherin himself, why did he forget that long enough to let a silly, flighty Irish child into his life? If he were going to ruin himself for a student, why not one who understood more of the world and could fight beside him?

He had somehow become entirely dependent on a pair of green eyes and a warm smile, capable of such shyness and such overpowering eroticism.

Seamus bloody Finnigan.

So be it.

He was going to kill Draco Malfoy. He knew that. What was keeping him going, propelling him forward on the walk he wasn't at all enjoying, was the unknown element. The doubt. Would he kill Malfoy before he recovered his lover?

Seamus was days late for his potion. If Malfoy did leave him alive he was still stealing life and health.

And frankly, if this situation didn't resolve itself very soon Snape wasn't going to be accountable for his own actions.


	23. Understanding Part One

Snape glowered at the door after the knock came. Merlin only knew what kind of interfering Lupin or Albus was going to try, and to say he wasn't in the mood was a vast understatement.

There was a chance, though, that there was news. So he stood up and went to the door, passing yet another batch of Seamus's potion that would soon be going sour.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw who stood there. "What do you want?"

Potter's brow was furrowed and he didn't answer. He looked back, careful. Like he was examining him.

Snape straightened, irritation a welcome emotion after hours of silent nothing.. "Fast, Potter, I haven't got all night."

"Why did you join the Death Eaters?"

Snape was caught sincerely off guard. "None of your bloody business. Good night."

"Wait." Potter hesitated, color in his cheeks, and held up a glass bottle of dubious content. "I didn't come empty handed."

Surprise made Snape study the boy. "It would take much more than the contents of that bottle to get me drunk enough to tell you anything."

Potter's eyes flashed, then cleared. His expression stayed neutral. "I need your help. You understand things better than I ever could, and I need you to help me understand so I can stop him."

Snape opened his mouth and relied on years of lashing out at those children to bring out a suitable response and get the brat out of his room. But his instincts failed him.

"Poddywas talking to me today about understanding. I don't get it, really, buthe thinks it's a major thing I'm missing.ButI just...I know I don't see everything I should about Voldemort. I need help."

Blast Potter for humbling himself, and sincerely, just when Snape was too distracted to revel in it.

His arm gave a deep, throbbing pulse. His hand came up to rub over the spot, and he felt hollowed at the realization that he had taken his potion just hours ago. His immunity to it was growing every day.

Potter was the only chance he had of stopping the pain once and for all.

He sighed and moved aside, opening the door.

Potter's eyes went wide and he hesitated before stepping inside. "Thank you, sir."

Snape snorted - one reflex that never failed him. "I'm 'sir' now, am I?"

Potter moved in, looked around briefly, and turned right back to Snape. "I would appreciate if you wouldn't act as though my hostility towards you was something unfounded that you were a helpless victim of."

Snape frowned but reached out for the bottle. He moved to his table and grabbed a glass. After the barest pause he grabbed a second. "I don't know what you hope to gain, but my usefulness regarding the Dark Lord has passed. I know no more than you do."

Potter looked incredibly awkward standing there, which did a little to improve Snape's mood. "Actually...what I want to know has more to do with you than Voldemort, though I think it will help me with him."

Snape's mouth twisted. "I will tell you nothing I think you don't need to know."

Potter nodded.

"That question you asked at the door, I suppose that's the first thing you want to know."

Another nod.

Snape sat down, pouring himself a full glass and sipping gingerly. Bourbon, and not complete rubbish. He was mildly impressed. He'd half-expected firewhiskey. He regarded the glass for a long time, thinking.

"I joined the Dark Lord because I was meant to," he said finally.

"I don't understand," Potter said.

"Why are you going to kill the Dark Lord?"

Potter blinked. He took the empty glass Snape had set down and poured himself a finger of Scotch. "Because I'm supposed to. Because no one else will."

"Because of the circumstances of your life. The scar on your face told everyone who you were and what you were meant for." Snape didn't wait for a nod. He was right, and Potter acknowledging he was right was unimportant. "The world isn't selectively superficial. It's not only you who is pushed into a path because of what you are."

Harry leaned in, ignoring his glass, brow furrowed.

"I have always been much as I am now." His face hardened and he returned that stare. "You saw oncefor yourself how I used to be."

Potter actually blushed.

"I was sorted into Slytherin." He trailed off, taking a deep swallow of strength from his glass. His next words were more intense than he had intended. "I want you to think back, Potter. You heard the Sorting Hat's song many years in a row. Students were sorted into Slytherins, you might recall, because of ambition and a disregard for the rules. Yet because many of the supporters of Dark Arts were from that house, Slytherin became known as Dark in itself. In my time as head of the house I saw many students who turned to Dark Arts because everyone assumed they were Dark already."

Harry nodded. "It was the first thing I heard about Slytherin. That every wizard who ever went bad was from that house."

"Rubbish. But we have the majority. The Dark Arts call to those with ambition and a desire for power. When the Dark Lord's name began being whispered during my student years,Slytherin was looked at in accusation. I can remember more than once when your father and his cocky gang of friends would accost me because of an attack, or a report in the papers that His numbers were growing."

"I'm not my father."

"Yet can you honestly tell me that you ever thought about trusting a Slytherin student? That club you started, the defense club, did you ever consider allowing my students in?"

Harry frowned.

"No," Snape answered. "You didn't. With dark families and dark influences in their House and beyond, those students needed more help than anyone. Yet you never thought to help them. No one did. Only I, who couldn't risk my position by actually helping at all." His eyes flashed. "I lost so many to the Dark Lord because they felt they had nowhere else to go. Because no one told them, as no one told me when it was my time, that there was help."

"But you..." Potter hesitated, and the argumentative edge left his voice, leaving simple curiousity. "You studied the Dark Arts. You were obsessed with them. At least that's what..."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "That's what Black told you? Or Lupin? They were right. That was my fascination, along with potions. The trouble with you noble Gryffindors is that you throw around the terms light and dark as if they encompass everything."

"We didn't start that. Light and Dark has been around forever. They must be important, or why would the words have come to mean so much?"

Snape let out a hiss of air, unsure whether he should feel annoyed or refreshed at Potter's curiosity. "Magic that was too powerful, or granted too much control, or was deemed to have less than noble intentions, was labelled as dark magic. If you ask me, I'd say it was a Ministry idea, or whatever government existed at the time. Anything that grants people too much power is to be guarded against."

"That sounds a bit paranoid."

Snape eyed him. "You can say that, seeing the government of our time and the way it reacts to perceived threats to its power? To Albus, for one?"

Potter raised his glass. "Point made."

"The world is not as simple as you would prefer. You're an Auror. If you've ever taken a life, you know I'm right."

Harry blanched, and Snape knew the boy had killed. How often, he wondered vaguely.

"The term Dark cannot simply be applied to someone as if it is everything there is to know. If it were that easy, you would have no regrets about killing. If it were simply a wiping away of darkness, what's to regret? But people are more than that. Magic certainly is more than that. Unforgivables do not have to be Dark. The killing curse is an instant and painless way to inflict death, and sometimes that can be a blessing. Torture has been around since the dawn of man, used for good and evil. The cruciatus at least leaves no scars, no risk of death. At times even the imperious can be justified. That's the way of the world. Dark is never completely evil, and light is never entirely good."

Potter's expression was oddly thoughtful. "I've never thought of it that way."

Snape's lips pressed together. "No. Not many people do. I have seen both sides. I have known noble Death Eaters and reprehensible Aurors, even some in the Order."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Dung?"

Snape actually laughed before he caught himself. "Fletcher is annoying at worst. I mean those in the Order who torture innocents, roust people from their homes, seperate children from caring parents because of suspected ties to the Dark Lord. I'm talking about Aurors who imprison without trial or evidence. Who curse first and ask questions later. And I have seen Death Eaters take curses to save children caught in the crossfire, and face death at the Dark Lord's hands rather than harm another person."

Harry shook his head, eyes wide. He seemed gobstruck, which made Snape feel a grim sense of satisfaction. The bourbonprobably helped.

He sighed, taking another long draw of the warming liquor. "I became a Death Eater because I didn't know. None of us knew, not back then, entirely what it meant. I thought it was freedom from noble persecution from people like you. A chance to study my art, to protect my kind from Muggles and their cruel ways."

A surprised laugh. "Their cruel ways?"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Have you heard the old stories of witches and their tricks to get out of being burned at the stake?"

Harry nodded.

"Some children heard those stories and laughed at the stupid Muggles and clever witches. I heard and realized that Muggles wanted to burn us alive. Kill us, in such a barbaric way, because we had magic. Some of us were raised to believe that and to fear."

Harry frowned, toying with his glass.

"I also joined with the Dark Lord to get my revenge on your father and Black and their kind. As I said, nothing is all black or white. I was not noble. I killed. Muggles and wizards alike. At the time I didn't regret it. I laughed with my brothers afterwards as we cleaned the blood from our robes."

Harry blanched.

"I am not innocent. Few people are. But when I realized my mistakes I took steps to correct them, and that's all any of us can say for ourselves. Even you."

The boy drained his glass in one swallow, making a face even as he held out his glass for more. "It was easy to think of you as evil. Too easy, I suppose. Though a lot of that was your doing."

Snape smirked, obliging him by pouring him another glass.

The bottle shook, though, and the liquor spilled at Potter's next words.

"Do you love Seamus?"

He set the bottle down hard, his features freezing.

Harry met his eyes, obviously under the misapprehension that they were becoming amiable in their truth-telling. "Though you may not realize it I've been accusing you of some pretty bad things. I jumped to conclusions. I know the truth of how he feels for you, at least."

"I don't want to talk about him, Potter."

"Listen. I don't-"

"Then bloody well shut up about it!" Snape's voice was a whip, hard and sharp. He already had to stay in the quiet room, in the empty bed, brewing and binning the same potion over and over. He wasn't about to share it with Potter.

"I just wanted to know."

"You don't need to know. It is between him and I."

Harry frowned, but Snape was beyond caring. The entire bloody story of his life and the brat still wasn't happy. Potter had nerve. Not to mention some Gryffindorish sense of entitlement.

"I don't see how any of this helps you against the Dark Lord, Potter. If you were hoping I would give you something to hold over me you're sadly mistaken."

"I don't want to hold anything against you. You have helped, I think. I need to talk to Poddy, but..." Potter's gaze went back to the glass.

Snape stood up. "I have work to do."

Potter looked up, surprised, but nodded. "You're working on potions?"

"What else?"

"For what? The Order?"

"No."

Snape strode over to his table, sighing at the darker tint of the potion at the edges. Burnt. He pulled out his wand.

And to his great irritation, Potter moved not towards the door but towards him. "Is that...that's the potion you give Seamus?"

A terse nod. Snape's mind was on other things. He was running low on crushed moonclover root. He would have to send for more. Making the potion so often was depleting his stores.

"Why...?"

Snape didn't answer.

Potter left a minute later.


	24. Compassion

"What Poddy is doing for Harry Potter?"

Harry crouched down when the elf appeared. "I want to thank you for what you've told me. Ithink Ido understand much better what you were talking about."

"Poddy is happy to hear that, sir." The elf beamed, stroking his ear in a preen.

"Yes. Well. I'm not there yet."

Poddy beamed. "Is getting there. Is beinglike the old ceremonies the house elves is performing. Teaching other races how to understand. We is no longer doing the ceremonies, but is happening. Is all happening in Harry Potter's head."

He blinked. "Yeah?"

"Of course. Ceremony isn't always for chanting and robes as wizards are thinking." He smiled brightly. "Important ceremony isinside, in your head."

Harry shook his head. "Your kind is really much more intelligent than you're given credit for."

Poddy laughed, a tinkling sound. "House elves is not wanting credit. House elves is not needing to be known. Is enough to be knowing ourselves."

Harry smiled, then hunkered to sit, cross-legged, in front of the elf so he could meet him eye to eye. "I'm afraid there's still something I'm having trouble with."

Surprise touched the house elf's face.

"Iwent to...er, to talk to someone I never bothered trying to understand before. Ilearned some things baout him, and it got better. Enough that I know the truth of what you're saying. But I don't see how it will help with Voldemort. I still don't understand him, and I don't know if I ever will."

Poddy's ears went flat at the name, but he didn't cringe away. He nodded. "Even house elves is not understanding He Who Must Not Be Named."

Harry frowned. "It's him I have to kill. It's him I need that magic for."

Round eyes widened. "Harry Potter must not be killing He Who Must Not Be Named."

"Of course I must!" Harry sat up. "That's the whole point of all of this."

Poddy ducked his head. "Forgive Poddy, he is not being clear. Harry Potter is not killing He Who Must Be Named because Harry Potteris killing the man inside."

Harry drew in a breath. "Tom Riddle."

Poddy beamed. "Yes! Harry Potter is killing the wizard, not the Dark Lord. It is he who we is understanding."

"That seems easier, but I really don't know if I can do it."

Poddy bowed. "Begging Harry Potter's pardon, but he is trying it before he is saying no."

"Right." Harry smiled at that, sitting back and wondering how it would be possible. "Right."

Remus opened his door and blinked out, looking half-asleep. "Severus?"

Snape grimaced. He hadn't realized it was so late. He held his fist up, parchment crumbled between tight fingers. "I..." He hesitated, tightening his jaw and raising his chin with no small amount of pride. "I need help."

Remus, to Snape's grateful surprise, hardly seemed phased. He opened his door and allowed Snape entrance. "Come in. Tell me what's going on."

Snape strode into the room, shoved the parchment into Remus's hands and stalked over to the small fireplace, where flames were burning low and hot. A book sat open by a chair near the fire. A glass of wine. Interesting. Lupin spent his nights very much as Snape was spending his these days.

Behind him he heard the sound of parchment unrolled, and he tensed and waited.

Remus spoke a moment later. "I will never get used to this. I taught him as a child. "

"He was malicious even then."

"True. But to see him come to this."

Snape's spine straightened. "It's no surprise. He was the last child I would have been able to help. I could never risk him doubting I was loyal, because he and his father shared everything."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Help me settle this matter."

"Right." Remus moved into his line of sight, face looking more drawn under the flickering orange of the fire. "What are you planning?"

"I'm going to do exactly as he says."

"What?" Remus looked surprised, finally. "Severus."

"Seamus Finnigan is innocent. Malfoy only wanted him because he was here with me. That is not something I am prepared to let him die for."

"But to sacrifice yourself..."

"Sacrifice?" Snape raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Like you I taught the boy. There is nothing he can do that I can't counter. He is reckless and egocentric. I can defeat him."

"He won't play fair, Severus."

"Nor will I."

"He will have the advantage. He has Seamus."

Snape bristled, but drew in a breath and forced himself to relax. "That is what I need your help for. There is a potion Seamus must take. He will need some the moment he is brought back, and should I not return someone will need to be found who can brew it regularly."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "You came here to ask me to prepare for your not returning."

"Come now, Lupin. Surely you've got something of a fatalist in you after all these years. Of course that's what I'm asking for. I will not play games with his life. I will not resort to foolish Order trickery that might backfire. I don't trust it, and Malfoy will be too smart to fall for it."

"Then it's you falling into his trap, Severus."

He cocked an eyebrow, daring Lupin to tell him his old student's plan, as if he could understand better than Snape himself.

Remus flashed the parchment, then dictated part aloud. "'Yet I know your pride will not allow you to refuse.' You're admitting he's right."

"No." Snape stared hard eyes at the werewolf. "It isn't out of pride that I act."

Lupin regarded him, and though Snape knew the man would be able to see he was being honest, he also knew Lupin would never agree to support his plan.

But that was alright. He didn't have to. All he had to do was agree to help Seamus if things went badly. "Don't try to reason with me. Your energy is needed elsewhere. You've got that brat to raise, and that's enough for any person. Focus on that. Just tell me you'll help him if I am unable to."

Lupin shook his head, his expression dark. "You know I will."

"Yes. I suppose I just wanted to hear it. I don't want anyone's ill feelings towards me being reflected on Seamus. Especially if something does happen to me. He is an emotional child. He will be hurt."

Remus bowed his head. "Do you honestly intend to put yourself in Malfoy's hands? Not knowing how many Death Eaters he has on his side, or what tricks he has planned?"

"I don't plan to go without a fight."

Remus shook his head. "Severus. That's not good enough."

Snape hissed a breath, looking away from those grey eyes. "Don't pretend to care if I live or die."

"Severus."

Snape nodded after a moment. Lupin wasn't a liar. He didn't deceive. But Snape was having a hard enough time understanding why Seamus cared for him. Accepting that Lupin might prefer to have him alive and well was something he couldn't contemplate yet.

"I will come to you tomorrow before I leave, to tell you where the potions instructions are stored and show you how to measure a dose. I fear...he may need more than one. He's missed more than is healthy."

"Are you alright, Severus? Have you slept?"

Snape blinked at him. "Slept? Of course not. I dislike things not being where I want them. It's hard to rest..."

"Without him there."

Snape grimaced but didn't answer.

Harry shifted the awkward spiked ball from one hand to the other as he was led down the halls towards the cell. The guide was quiet. The halls were quiet. The Ministry itself was quiet.

It was obscenely late, though, so that was understandable.

Harry blamed Ron. Since the moment he asked Ron to borrow that toy, this ball he had bought in Hogsmeade for his brothers but of course had forgotten about entirely, Ron had demanded to know what he was planning. Harry hadn't given details, but Ron was smart enough to know it had something to do with Voldemort.

He had tailed Harry, unwilling to let him face danger without him. What if he passed out again, Ron had asked. What if Voldemort was strong enough to fight?

Harry wasn't worried. A test of the ball revealed that it only made walls invisible on the side it was sticking to, so he would have all the time he wanted to examine Voldemort without being seen himself.

He walked through the wall illusion that led to Voldemort's door and stopped, nodding at the two men who gaurded the door. "I'd like to be alone for a few minutes."

"Er, Mr. Potter sir, begging your pardon and all, but that's against our orders."

"Whose orders? Fudge's? Or Albus Dumbldore? Who do you trust more?" He looked at the two men.

They exchanged a glance. Fudge was their boss, true enough. But Unspeakables were intelligent, and anyone with a brain knew whose decisions were more sound.

"Dumbledore sent me here. I am the man who is going to free you of your prisoner. I want to be alone with him."

Another exchanged glance. "Right. If Dumbledore said it...but we'll be right on the other side of the wall. If we hear anything odd..."

"Don't worry." Harry nodded at them. "It will be fine."

"Since it's you, Mr. Potter. Don't guess you've got a reason to want him free."

They headed off, the guide and the two guards, vanishing through the wall illusion and out of sight.

Harry turned to the door. He hefted the ball in his hand, and pulled out his wand with his other. Just in case.

With a soft grunt he lobbed the ball. The spikes bit into the wall and hung there. The wall began to diminish, fading centimeter by centimeter like it was melting very slowly.

The white room came into view, the white cot and white-skinned figure on it. Red eyes were just a sliver of color, and Harry drew in a breath. He silently looked in, moving to the wall and resting a hand against it.

He could almost find sympathy for Voldemort. That he was a powerful wizard reduced to a half-conscious piece of driftwood in a sea of white was almost sad.

Harry had nightmares at times, after close calls wth Death Eaters and sneak attacks that wards and friends barely managed to alert him to in time. Nightmares of being in a black room, some stone prison. At the mercy of Death Eaters.

He wondered if Voldemort had ever feared this.

The horrible figure that lay there, helpless and withering, was the face in his nightmares. The man who had slaughtered Cedric Diggory. The man who had invaded his mind, killed his godfather. Killed his parents. Shaped the entire course of his life.

This was the man who had caused him to be raised by the Dursleys, shut up in a broom closet and half-starved. This was the beast who had ordered the deaths of Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Dean Thomas, and Tonks, who had survived but was nothing like she used to be. Who had himself murdered Charlie Weasley, the vibrant dragon tamer and Ron's hero.

How? How was he to have understanding and love for this?

Don't try to understnd the Dark Lord, he reminded himself with a sigh. Understand the man behind it.

Tom Riddle. Who had lured Ginny almost to her death. Who had led to Hagrid being expelled from school. Who led to the death of at least one Muggleborn girl at Hogwarts before he left. Who hated so feircely that be became Voldemort.

Harry tried. He tried to make himself feel a swell of compassion, of understanding and love. Tom Riddle was a person, and no person should live in a cage reduced to nothing. Unable to be fed because people feared to step into his cage. Helpless and hopeless.

Harry dreaded that fate, because he knew the reality of it. That gave him some real and honest sympathy.

The Killing Curse, then, but coming from a place of pity instead of a place of hatred.

He reached for the knob of the door, watching the figure through the wall.

Before the door was fully open he had the words out. i "_Avada kedavra!_" /i

His world went green. Then his world went black.

He was leaving Remus Lupin's quarters when he felt a roar of agony erasing the numbess the potion caused and searing from his arm outward.

He screamed, the first time in a long time, and hit his knees.

He heard his name being shouted as he fell, thinking that this was death.


	25. History

_Author's note: This is another Rated R chapter. Stronger R than the last Rated R chapter. Much stronger. Proceed with caution._

_The halls had a sad sort of richness to them. The rugs had once been a lush burgundy, and still were in spots right up against the walls. Mostly they were stomped flat and brown from dirt and wear. Walls were spattered in mud and cracked like dry desert ground, formerly regal deep paint of some color faded to gray. Soft sounds came from the doors he passed, sounds that added to the tattered aura. _

_A place of sin. A place of fallen innocence, or something equally profound. _

_This wasn't the first time this particular blond and regal Englishman had walked this hall. He came about once a month, never satisfied, always looking for someone new. _

_He followed his hostess, eyes taking in her practiced walk. There was no real interest there - he had long ago accepted his preference for his own gender - but there was appreciation. She wasn't clinging to him and cooing and trying to put him in some sort of mood, which he appreciated. _

_She nodded to a doorway and knocked before opening. A smile was the last he saw of her._

_The room inside matched its surroundings, save one difference. The bed was large and fairly new, and occupied. _

_He had been very specific in his instructions, and the boy inside seemed to have been well briefed. No words, no faces, no names, no small talk. He wanted something anonymous, quick and impersonal. Enough to rut out his pent up tensions. _

_He moved inside and looked the prone figure up and down. This was no street urchin. No waifish twenty year old struggling to look fourteen. This one was muscled and lush._

_The boy didn't acknowledge him, as per instructions. He shifted just enough to show that he wasn't sleeping, but his face was turned towards the wall and his arm was over his eyes to allow anonymity. _

_The Englishman stripped himself quickly and effeciently. There was something about this one that aroused him more than he had thought to let himself be interested. Beautiful, there was no denying that. Young and fresh skin always was. Unmarred and gently curved and lined, muscle wrapped smoothly around bone. Golden, somehow, even in the lacking light of the bulbed lamp across the room. _

_The man stepped out of his slacks. He moved to the bed, letting himself enjoy his own arousal. The boy was a natural blond, he noted with a smirk._

_The room was quiet. He could hear the boy breathing. He could hear himself breathing. He could hear the low grumble of bedsprings as he lifted a knee to the mattress and pulled himself onto it. _

_He had thought to flip the boy over and get right to it. But he wondered what lush and healthy skin tasted like. He had rarely been offered a treat this decadent. He bent and traced his lips over the bump of a collarbone._

_The boy sighed as if suddenly having a particularly nice thought, but didn't move. _

_The man smiled dryly, licking his lips to absorb the taste. Lovely, really. He traced a fingertip down the boy's stomach, watching muscle clench and relax, ribs coming into view and then vanishing with an indrawn breath. _

_The human body was a fascinating thing. The Englishman knew and was very talented at the things that could make a body shudder, a person scream or sob or moan or come. He knew how to manipulate nerve and joint and muscle to get any reaction he wanted. _

_But this wasn't about the boy's reactions, it was about his own release. He licked a warm stripe over the upraised arm, from armpit to elbow. A shiver went through the youthful body. _

_His fingers trailed over the boy's side and nudged him firmly. The boy obeyed after a beat, as if the idea was his own to do when he pleased. _

_The back was as pleasing as the front. A beauty like this was probably fawned over, prized by lecherous clients. He had fetched a high price, that much was certain._

_The curves of the boy were astonishing. Perfect, perhaps. His waist was slender, his shoulders broad. His spine curved straight and down, to end in the dip of lower back and then the curve of his arse. And a lovely arse at that. His thighs were strong, legs long and well muscled. This one took good care of himself. _

_His mouth watered and he licked his lips. He was thoroughly hard then, strictly by looking at the boy. Amazing, the reactions a body could cause. He trailed over the beautiful curve of the boy, first with questing hand and then with a curious tongue. _

_A faint sheen of sweat was forming on the boy's neck, and that had an oddly chemical taste, which made him frown. Did this one indulge in narcotics? His eyes went to the boy's other arm. He saw a tell-tale cluster of raised marks. Disappointing. Not surprising, though._

_He nudged a leg between the boy's thighs, and caressed a slow hand down that lovely back. His fingers padded over the warm softness of the curves of the boy's arse. He gently parted those luscious cheeks and felt another aching throb go through him. _

_The boy's breathing was faster, but all else was dead silent. He let out a soft sigh of his own and drew one hand down the part between his cheeks, sliding over the small puckered hole, dwelling there to stroke lightly. _

_The boy shimmied against his touch, arse arching upwards._

_The man smiled almost grimly. His fingertip glistened, and he realized the boy had taken the step of preparing himself properly. He considered for the first time leaving a tip. _

_That hole wasn't well-used, not by appearances. Not red or sore or swollen. Perhaps he was new. Perhaps he was usually the top for his punters. His finger drove against that hole and into the warm, slick depths of the boy's body._

_A gasp and a shiver below him, and he saw a hand fisting into the pillow by the boy's head. He felt unnaturally pleased - the boy had been instructed to be silent and not indulge in the gasping pants and hideous moans others tended to fake. So this was sincere. _

_He watched the mucles up the boy's body shifting fluidly under his skin. He removed his finger quickly and reached for the usual platter of condoms on the bedside table. Sudden need made his hand less deft than usual, but he got the hated rubber on and slid up the boy's body to position himself. He wanted to be in that body._

_He gritted his teeth and lined himself up and probed his aching erection through that ring of muscle. He moaned - the boy was bloody tight. _

_He lost himself so quickly and so entirely that he got nervous later to think about it. All he was aware of was gripping heat around his cock, and an arse lifting to meet him. A white-knuckled hand squeezing the pillow, joined by another beside it that he took a moment to recognize as his own. _

_The boy fit against him too well, and accepted him too eagerly. The man's need for distant, anonymous rutting was overpowered by wanting to see how those muscles would shiver if he found the right angle to his hips..._

_And then the need to hear that soft voice gasp and moan as he hit the boy's prostate expertly with deep thrusts. _

_He watched the boy's hair darken with sweat, watched drops form on his skin and slide down out of sight between their bodies. He swallowed to keep from moaning himself. _

_The only thing he felt truly detached about was the one thing he should have cared about most - the sight of his hand slowly changing. The knuckles beside the boy's clenching hand stuck out more suddenly, the skin around them stretching tighter and paler. His short white hair morphed as he rode the boy - slow and then fast and then excrutiatingly slow - and dark, limp strands came down over his shoulders to block everything but the boy under him from his sight, hidden behind a black veil. He wondered if the boy could feel it as the well-formed body on top of him became thinner, and bones jutted where muscle melted away. _

_Was Polyjuice something another could feel? _

_He shut his eyes against the change, unable to focus on anything but stretching this experience out more and more. He did anything he could, changing his pace and thinking grim thoughts about Minerva McGonagall coming on to him in some frightful Muggle negligee. None of it was enough to silence the boy's soft, tenor moans or the reactions they shot through his body. _

_He buried himself in smooth, beautiful youth and felt the release come, painful in its power. His body wracked, thin again and less graceful than before. His hand nearly tore the sheet it clutched, and he reached his other hand under the boy in an unusual gesture of generosity, fingering a slender erection and then stroking firmly. His talents came in there - he wanted the boy to shudder in completion with him still buried inside. _

_And he did. A broken cry, and the flesh in his hand pulsed. _

_He collapsed onto the boy's back, panting for air and reason. _

_The Polyjuice had worn off. It came to him with the return of ugly reality, and he felt a bolt of alarm. He had spent too much time on this whore. He had more potion with him, of course, and the boy wasn't looking at him. Still, it was an alarming happening. He was usually smarter. _

_He pushed up and slid out of the boy. There was a murmur from the prone form that he could ignore now that his sanity was back. He moved off the beed, marvelling at how unsteady his legs were, and went to dress. The clothes were ill-fitting over his real body, and he grasped in the pocket of his slacks for the small vial of polyjuice. _

_A shifting sound from the bed drew his attention before he could take the potion. _

_"'s nice, professor. Thanks." _

_The boy's voice was slurred - he was on them now, whatever narcotics he was partial to. But that wasn't what registered. _

_Professor. _

_It hit him harder than the polyjuice and he reached the bed in a flash. Turning the boy around, he opened his mouth to snap at him for breaking the rules and calling him some foolish nickname that he couldn't possibly know had any grounds in truth..._

_But the words froze in his mouth. _

_He _recognized_ the glassy, strangely green eyes looking back at him. _

Snape shuddered awake, groaning as his dream was pulled from him bit by bit. Like Seamus and his habit of slowly stealing the sheets as the night wore on.

He wanted the dream back. He wanted to lose himself, even though that first meeting had ended less than amiably. Even though the long days after had been so conflicted, before he went back to that brothel and asked for Seamus by name, and something compelled him to speak to the boy who used to be his student.

"Severus."

He resisted the voice at first, clinging to what he had, to the warmth of that memory.

"There seems to be a problem."

He waded into reality. Nothing like an understatement of the obvious to force him to retort. "What was your first hint?"

Albus looked down at him. "How do you feel?"

"Like I don't work properly. It's not a nice feeling." Snape tried to sit up, but he felt abused and aching. Just like he had when...

He sighed. "Potter tried again."

"Indeed. And did not succeed."

"Of course not." He grimaced, head falling back on the pillow. Back to the bloody hospital wing. Alone. "Did he cause any irreparable harm?"

Albus hesitated, glancing to the side. The brat was there. Figured. "Voldemort has the strength to escape, but luckily the killing curse has the same effect on him than on young Harry."

"And me, apparently." Snape grimaced, rubbing his ruined Mark.

Albus sat down beside the bed, stiff. "And every other person who bears that Mark. The Ministry reports that every Death Eater in custody had the same reaction as the last time."

"Of course." Snape raised his eyebrows as he looked at Albus. "The Dark Lord is very good at what he does. When he wanted us joined to him in life and death, he meant it. "

"Did he tell you?"

"That we might die if he were killed? No. I doubt he ever believed it would happen."

"Then he didn't specifically design this to happen?"

Snape shrugged. "I couldn't tell you."

"A way might be found..."

"Albus. I take every potion that has any effect on the Dark Mark. It doesn't dull the reaction in the slightest. I tried removing the Mark. I suspect if I remove the arm itself the Mark would stay with me, invisible. This is for life. That was clear when I let myself be Marked."

Albus nodded slowly. "It is beyond me to fix, but I will try. I fear it will do Harry no good to know this."

That he would be murdering every Marked man and woman when he killed the Dark Lord? Doubtless it would inspire all sorts of needless Gryffindorish angst. "Then don't tell him."

Albus looked to the side again, his face softening in that sickening Potter-worship way. "I have a history of bad judgement calls when it comes to what to tell Harry and what to keep secret."

"It will do him no good to have more reason not to go through with this."

Albus turned back to him, standing up. "I will leave you to rest, Severus. You will remain here until the morning."

Severus frowned. A moment later he sat bolt upright as a thrill of fear shot down his spine. "I have plans tonight. I have to leave."

Albus glanced back. "It's been taken care of."

"What?" Snape glared at him, not even questioning that Albus knew what he was talking about. The man simply knew. Everything. "What the hell do you mean, taken care of?"

"Trust the Order, Severus. Trust your friends."

"Friends? I don't _have_ any bloody..." But his eyes slid to the side, to where Harry lay. Weasley and Granger were on the bed opposite Potter, talking. No one else was there.

"Lupin."

"Remus volunteered, yes. I assure you, he will let no harm fall on young Seamus."

"Malfoy will eat him alive."

"I don't believe so. In fact, I believe it will rather go too quickly for Mr. Malfoy to even try to take a bite."


	26. Return

The scene was set rather nicely, he thought. The mudblood was chained as a filthy pet should be, a rather lovely green collar around his neck. Brought out the color in those frightened eyes. He sat, meek and well-bruised. Nice, even if Draco would have prefered to cut his throat over keeping him alive.

But the mudblood was nothing.

Severus Snape was the important one. Severus Snape was the one that mattered.

His blood boiled when he thought of his old teacher. The head of his house. The only man the Slytherins thought they could trust at a school that had been hostile towards them since day one.

Brilliant. Biting. Fascinating Severus Snape. Draco had found the man unappealing when he first saw him. His father had told him to treat Snape with respect, so he had. He knew what Snape was, but after growing up in his blond and beautiful family with their pure and beautiful friends, Snape had been a rather unwashed and unkempt person to be leading his house.

It hadn't taken Draco long to warm towards him. Anyone who openly called out Harry Potter for what he was was alright in Draco's book.

And as years went on Snape remained a staunch defender of his children, and proved himself a genius in his field. Which was all Draco asked for, honestly. Competency and common sense.

He came to find himself studying potions more and more carefully. He wrote his own papers rather than ordering someone else to do it. He went to Snape after hours for talks, for lessons. He wanted to earn Snape's respect, he found. When he admitted that to his father, out of need to have some sense made of the phenomenon, Lucius Malfoy wasn't surprised.

"The Malfoy's have always had control," he had explained. "When we say jump, people jump. They don't even stop to ask how high. But Severus Snape has power. Similar, in a lot of ways. Yet different. Malfoys make demands to get our way. Severus simply makes his way happen. Those potions of his, they're nothing to be taken lightly. His knowledge of the Dark Arts is enviable. He is to be watched and admired for what he can accomplish."

Draco was satisfied with that. He found himself turning that over in his head, thinking of Snape in the same way he thought of his father. A man who would help him, protect him, and teach him ultimate power. .

Draco respected him and admired. He found the man to be...attractive. Not that he would have ever tried to seduce his teacher. There were too many young and beautiful partners around. But once he left he had dreams. Fantasies.

Even after the horrible truth came. After Snape ran away and proved everything he and his father had believed about him was rubbish. Even then Draco had dark dreams of hunting the man down, of making him beg for mercy, for Draco's forgiveness. And, yes, sometimes for his cock.

He never came as hard as from the image of Severus Snape on his knees, surrendering himself entirely in the face of Malfoy power.

And there...he was nearly hard in his anticipation. There was the realization of those fantasies, all thanks to that simple-minded child in the corner.

Draco had been content to hide and rule over the pathetic remnants of the Dark Lord's forces. He wasn't the senior, by far, but Rabastan Lestrange was completely unstable, and most of the Russians had run to hide. Karkaroff had even surrendered.

Draco had the control, the confidence, to lead those left. There wasn't much to say about them. They needed a grand act, a rallying force. Freeing their Lord was the untilmate goal, but when their eyes at Hogwarts had reported Severus Snape alive and well, and shacking up in his quarters with some filthy Mudblood, Draco set his sight there.

Snape would be a powerful force to have back on their side, and Draco was skilled with the imperios curse enough to know he could own the man. The pet Mudblood he was shagging had some idiotic habit of walking unarmed and alone at all hours of night and day outside the walls of the castle. Too easy.

He looked to the clock on the wall. "It's time," he said out loud, his voice trembling. Finally, the realization of a dream. The payback for believing in a traitor. The end to those fantasies.

"Draco, please..."

He turned a smirk to the Mudblood. The boy felt it was appropriate to call Draco by his first name, simply because they had been in the same year at Hogwarts.

He lofted his wand, twirling idly. "Please what?"

Finnigan flinched back, paling, chain dragging on the floor with a delightful metal scrape. Fear in his eyes, yet he somehow had the stupidity to continue speaking. "He won't come. He's more important than me."

"He will." Draco looked to the floo, confident. "He won't leave a challenge unanswered. He has too much pride."

In answer to his words there was a wooshing noise, like a sudden hard breeze that vanished as soon as it came.

There he was.

Draco's spine tingled. He sauntered towards the Mudblood, for a moment hardly looking at the new arrival.

"Malfoy." That voice, low, oddly hoarse.

Draco looked down at his pet Mudblood and grinned at the absolute fear in his eyes. "See?"

Finnigan's attention was on Snape. "No! Severus, please! It doesn't matter, I'll not-"

"Shut up!" Snape's voice was a cold snap.

Draco's skin pricked. Delightful.

Finnigan fell into silence, shaking his head in denial.

Draco dismissed the boy, looking finally on his old teacher. He looked different. The long hair had been such a defining feature, yet the shorter hair suited him. "The years have been kinder to you than they should have."

A familiar smirk spread over that face. "One long vacation." Snape's eyes flitted to Finnigan for a moment. He held out his hand, in which he held a large glass pitcher. The portkey. "He is free to leave, then?"

"Empty your pockets. Remove your robe." Draco's voice came, slow and soft.

"I gave my word, Malfoy." But he turned out his pockets and unfastened his robe, leaving him in a simple starched shirt and slacks.

"Should I pat you down?" Draco asked with a lazy smile.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "He is free to leave?" he repeated simply.

"I gave my word." Draco repeated Snape's words cheekily.

Snape strode over, his walk the same as it ever was. He held the pitcher out to the boy without a word or much of a glance.

Draco felt a sense of satisfaction. He was right, then. The boy was nothing but a shag.

The boy stared at Snape for a long time, not reaching for the pitcher.

"Finnigan. Try to be less of an idiot than usual." Snape's voice held nothing warm.

Draco smirked.

Shaking hands reached up, and green eyes watered as he took the pitcher.

He was gone an instant later, sparing the two Slytherins from witnessing pathetic tears.

Draco waved his wand towards the fireplace. The floo became inactive, warded under his password. No apparation was possible.

Snape was his.

He moved to one of two armchairs near the fire. "Now that we're alone, I have"

"Sorry, Malfoy." Snape's voice was suddenly different. Gruff and familiar, but...

Not Snape.

He wheeled around, wand in the air.

But Snape simply grabbed his own shirt front, and the wooshing of a portkey took him out of the room. Out of sight. Out of his grasp.

Draco's hand clenched so tightly around his wand it splintered.

Snape watched from his bed as Seamus appeared. He breathed in, hand fisting in the sheet at the sight of bruised, purple skin.

The rush of rage that threatened was stomped down just as quickly when he saw the look on his young lover's face, the tears in his eyes as he clutched what must have been a portkey to his chest.

He cleared his throat. "Seamus."

Seamus's head came up, whipping around. His eyes caught on Snape. He dropped the pitcher to wipe his eyes and looked again. "Severus!" He shot to his feet, but wavered. His skin went white.

Snape stood. He moved carefully to Seamus's side and put an arm around his waist. "It's alright. Take it easy." He led the young man to the nearest cot. "It was a trick. They planned it without my knowledge."

Seamus looked up at him, and Severus was shocked by the naked and pure need on his face. "I thought..." He shook his head and threw himself into Snape's arms.

Severus sank to the bed, clutching the boy. His eyes shut and he breathed in as newly unfamiliar warmth started to seep into his limbs. He hugged Seamus to him, shaking from weakness and an overwhelming relief. "Seamus..."

Hands clutched around his back, fisting his shirt desperately. Seamus buried his face in Severus's chest, breathing so fast it sounded unhealthy. "Severus. Severus." He said his name, over and over again, as if it was as necessary as breathing.

Snape's eyes burned. He wasn't alone anymore. The boy hadn't died. His quarters would have life. The tub would be run. The bed would be slept in. The potion...

He breathed in and called out in a croak, "Poddy!"

The house elf popped into being, and his face contorted into a smile that threatened to break his skull in half. "Seamus Finnigan!"

Seamus didn't answer, clinging to Severus without letting up for a moment.

Poddy beamed at Snape. "What is Poddy doing for you?"

"In my quarters there is a potion brewing. Fetch me a gobletfull and bring it here quickly."

Poddy popped away in mid-nod.

Seamus laughed against Snape's shirt. "One track mind," he said with a tremor in his voice.

Snape threaded fingers through familiar, if dirty, blond hair. He shut his eyes again. "One track entirely," he confirmed.

There was a quiet sound, and he opened his eyes to see himself standing in the middle of the ward. He smiled shakily. Lupin wasn't bad. He even held himself with that bolt stiff spine Snape was so given to.

Lupin turned to them, the open concern on his face strange on Severus's own features, as was the wide, relieved smile when he saw them.

Snape wanted to be furious. Had been, when Albus had told him. If he had any strength he would have gone after the werewolf.

He should have mustered up some of that anger. He should have glowered at the audacity of Remus to steal Polyjuice, steal his hair, steal his mission to rescue his lover.

But he couldn't shake the faint smile he could feel on his lips. And when he opened his mouth all he managed to do was mouth the words_ thank you. _

When he spoke, it was soft and directed at Seamus. He kept petting the boy's hair even as he looked to Lupin, who was already starting to sprout grey hairs. "I've made a couple of changes you should approve of."

Seamus pulled back at that, drawing Snape's full attention again. His face was wet, his eyes radiating a mix of feelings. "Changes?"

"To the potion," Snape added, reaching down to touch light fingers to that face. He frowned when he felt more pronounced cheekbones, and remembered Seamus's weakness when standing. "Are you...?"

Seamus nodded. "Alright," he answered. His eyes dropped, though, and he shivered.

A blanket appeared beside him, held by a now reformed Remus Lupin, looking ridiculous in draping black clothes. Snape took the blanket with another nod of thanks, moving it over Seamus's shoulders and pulling it around him.

Seamus looked over and saw Remus. His eyes widened when he saw what the other man was wearing. "It was you?"

Remus nodded, smiling comfortingly. "I was trying to stay in character. Sorry."

Seamus laughed hoarsely. "A bit too much in character. I thought..." He shook his head, wiping wet trails off his face. "Thank you."

Remus reached out and patted his shoulder. "You're welcome. Now cheer this man up and we'll call it even."

Seamus looked back at Severus and smiled. "My pleasure."

Snape felt a feeling like warmth towards both men. He flashed Remus a grateful look, and turned his focus back to Seamus.

Poddy appeared a moment later, holding a large goblet carefully, both hands wrapped around the stem. "Poddy is bringing!"

Remus reached for it to hand to Severus.

Seamus made a face.

"Hopefully it tastes better. I had time to work on it."

Seamus drank, but pushed it away an instant later with a grimace. "Sorry." His face was pale. "My stomach."

"You haven't been fed," Snape confirmed the guess Seamus's sharper cheekbones had formed.

Seamus shook his head.

"Slow, then." Snape held the goblet, tilting it to Seamus's mouth for a swallow, then pulling it back. He stroked the cool face, studying his lover. Dehydration, perhaps. Hunger. Weakness. Bruises. Nothing they couldn't easily fix.

Still. That fear in Seamus's eyes when he first appeared, and the shivers that wracked him. That was enough to make Snape's stomach clench and his face want to harden. "I'll kill him."

Seamus looked up at him. "Severus."

Snape shook his head. "I've told you before, killing is nothing new to me. I have killed much better people than Malfoy, over lesser offenses than this. All it will do is rid the world of one more parasite."

Seamus studied him. "Not...not yet."

Snape softened at that. "No. Not yet. He will be there waiting, once the Dark Lord is destroyed. " Either that or he would be dead, along with Snape and all the rest of them.

"Don't worry about it." He fed Seamus another swallow of the potion. "Just rest for now." His eyes caught on a purple spot on Seamus's jaw. There were more on the other side. He reached out and gently fit his fingers over the smaller marks, as if about to grab Seamus's chin and force his head somewhere it didn't want to go.

He breathed in, seeing red at the sides of his vision. "He touched you."

Seamus swallowed, pulling back from the hand on his face. "It's alright."

Severus hesitated, looking into bright green eyes and warring between warmth and hatred. He shook his head, fighting both feelings with the confusion that still came, after all this time, whenever love caused him to feel something so powerfully.

He had never known how much different it was to feel for another person. He had thought his feelings for Sirius Black counted as hatred, but he knew now what true hate was. He sneered at Black, and resented. But if he saw Malfoy, _when_ he saw Malfoy, he would kill. No questions asked.

"You were right, you know." It was a revelation to him, mostly because he should have seen it sooner.

Seamus leaned in, still trembling minutely. "About what?"

"That rubbish you told me once. About how emotions that come from love are the strongest." He wondered about saying that, about the admission it really was. Seamus loved him and was very vocal about it. Snape...he wasn't comfortable with the word. He had laughed it off for too long to say it with seriousness now. But he knew where this intense anger came from, and the warring feelings when he looked at his bright-eyed, warm, accepting lover. "I suppose you must have been right."

Seamus pulled back. He breathed in, eyes going brighter with moisture. "Yes, I suppose I must have been." A shaking hand came up, stopping before touching Severus's face. He leaned in, falling against Severus and wrapping him in another tight hug, nearly upending the goblet of potion.

Snape stroked his back, his hair. Fine, then. It was love. He lay his cheek on Seamus's hair and shut his eyes, and accepted it.


	27. Understanding Part Two

It was like swimming up from a deep fog: tingles against his skin and blindness and his lungs felt heavy with something more than air.

The odd thing was that the feeling was familiar.

Harry managed to get his eyes open. He blinked at the sloping stone walls high above him, and groaned when he realized where he was.

"You absolute bloody idiot _arse_hole!"

He sighed. Lovely to be woken up by sweet words and a friendly voice.

A blur of red hair and pale skin appeared above him. "The bloody fuck were you thinking, you git? You unbelievable, stupid, incredible _git._"

"Ron! Stop it!" A blur of brown bushy hair replaced the red. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry shrugged, blinking until his eyes cleared as much as they would do without his glasses. "Alright," he rasped.

"Oh. Well, in that case. Ron, continue."

The red hair was pushed back into place. "Harry, you absolute birdbrained twat! What did you think"

Harry held up a hand. "Much as I love waking up this way, can you tell me what happened first?"

"You tried to stop You Know Who! Again! Alone! Like an idiot! And you took _my_ ball with you!"

Harry frowned, sinking back. He remembered. And then... "Tried? That means..."

"It means he's bloody well not dead. And you were knocked out with the door wide open. If the guards hadn't found you he could have gotten away! You're such an idiot."

Harry shut his eyes, letting out a breath. "Well. That's it, then, isn't it? It doesn't work."

"What doesn't?"

"Any of this rubbish we've been working on. I tried. I did what Poddy told me to."

A hard slap on his shoulder made his eyes open. Ron glared down at him. "Harry, you tosser. Even Poddy knew you weren't ready yet. He's the one that told me to watch for you when I mentioned you took my trick ball from me."

Harry looked away, frowning.

Hermione finally intervened again. "We've got to go tell them you're awake. Albus has been waiting for a full story about the ball and the house elf magic and all that. I guess we're the ones who get to tell him." She sighed. "Come on, Ron."

Ron echoed the sigh, heavy and dramatic. His concern was now plain, and Harry knew it was the driving force of his anger. "Bloody just like you, mate. Always getting knocked out when the teachers want answers."

Harry nearly smiled.

Hermione squeezed his arm before pulling Ron away.

Harry sat up. No good faking sick. Though he was tired, and aching, and rapidly getting bloody depressed, he would sit up to face the firing squad when the time came.

He found his glasses on the table by his bed. He slid them on and blinked around him, where a surprising sight greeted his now clear gaze.

His first feeling was a flash of relief. Seamus was back. He was alright. The obvious questions rose to his mind, but they silenced themselves as he took in a shockingly sweet scene.

Snape held on to Seamus, who was wrapped in a blanket and clinging to Snape even in sleep. At least, he thought Seamus was asleep. Their eyes were both closed, but Snape was stroking the blanket-covered back, his mouth moving as he spoke too softly for Harry to hear.

Harry had been forced to revise his opinion of Snape a great deal lately. And even though he came reluctantly close to admitting that maybe the man wasn't evil, he wasn't prepared for this. He wasn't prepared to see how human and vulnerable his old teacher could look.

Snape must have felt his gaze. His eyes opened and he looked right at Harry.

Harry looked back, opening his mouth to apologize and shutting it again whan he couldn't think of what to apologize for.

Snape held a finger to his lips. He looked down at the boy in his arms and slid gently away, settling Seamus onto the bed and tucking the blanket tight around him.

Harry studied Snape as he stood and moved towards his bed. He tried to interpret the expression on Snape's face, but gave up. He might have understood more about Snape, but that didn't mean he was at all close to really understanding him.

"Potter."

Harry nodded his eyes towards the chair by his bed. To his shock, Snape took him up on the silent offer and sat.

For a long minute there was silence. Harry looked at Snape, looked back at Seamus. But he felt awkward asking about it after his own overwhelming defeat. A defeat that quite possibly doomed Snape to a lifetime of uncertainty thanks to that Mark on his arm.

Snape studied Harry without the usual contempt on his face. "Tell me why you failed last night." His voice was strictly Potions Professor.

Harry frowned. "What do you know about it?" It was supposed to be surly, but he could somehow only manage dim curiosity.

"I know that you tried and you failed. I know you're a foolish boy who thinks the moment he has all the answers he is ready to act."

"Well, shouldn't I be ready? What else do I need when I have all the answers?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You need to understand them."

Harry blew out a breath. "I have just about had it with this nonsense about understanding. I tried, alright? I tried to go in there and love the bastard to death, but it didn't bloody work."

A flash like a smile crossed Snape's face. "It sounds rather ludicrous when you say it like that," he stated.

Harry frowned, but thought about it. A small chuckle forced its way out. "I don't know why it failed. I don't know why it was ever supposed to work."

"What were you thinking about when you were loving him into a brief coma?"

Harry laughed despite himself. "I don't know. That he's a person, or at least used to be. And no person should ever be helpless and locked up that way. I thought it would be better for him just to end it."

Snape glanced back behind him at the bed where Seamus lay. "I can't believe I'm about to go along with this. I thought it was rubbish as well, Potter, and I made no secret of that."

"You make no secret of anything," Harry retorted mildly.

Another raised eyebrow. "You would be surprised."

Harry nodded, allowing it.

"Seamus tried to tell me why magic that came from love would be stronger than magic that came from hate. I thought him fanciful and foolish. Now I'm not as sure."

Harry waited, wondering what was coming. It was unusual, this quiet conversation, and he wasn't sure he minded it.

"Let me tell you a story that may sound familiar. There was a boy, a wizard boy, who lost both of his parents before he was old enough to understand anything. He was sent to live with completely abhorrent Muggles who resented him on all levels. He was subjected to forms of torture, being locked up, being starved. Deprived of the things any child ought to have, like a chance to ask questions about the world. Simple things like that, that can have such a strong effect."

Harry stayed silent, but his brow furrowed. Why was Snape recounting his life? Was he trying to make a point, that he actually understood Harry better now?

"This boy made some odd things happen, mostly in self-defense or anger. But he had no idea what he truly was until letters started arriving by owl."

Harry grinned, distant enough to feel amused at Vernon's overblown attempts to dodge the owls. A lifetime ago.

"This boy arrived by train, knowing no one and only hoping that the world he was entering was better than the one he was leaving behind." Snape looked at him. "Sound relatively familiar?"

Harry nodded. "I'm surprised. I didn't think you knew the truth of where I came from."

Snape smirked, looking for a moment like his old disagreeable self. "Believe me, Potter, Albus saw to it that everyone on staff knew how unfortunate you were. You met Weasley on the train in. You had spoken to Hagrid about the school. You had already been informed about some of the ins and outs, including the dreaful fate that awaited you if you ended up a Slytherin." He raised his eyebrows, waiting for confirmation.

Harry nodded again, remembering his fervent talk with the Sorting Hat.

"Well, pay attention. This boy I'm talking about isn't you. This was a boy who made no friends on the train up, and who, when told Slytherin might be the house for him, didn't know to fear it and so accepted it. This boy found himself surrounded by other students who despised the sort of people he had grown up hating. This boy was encouraged to learn Dark Arts, to increase his hatred of Muggles. And every summer he was sent back to hateful people who were not his parents and didn't care for him in the slightest.

"You may think yourself stronger than that boy, Potter, but he became as strong as any who've ever been to this school. He came to believe that he was someone worth love and respect, and he began to hate Muggles so fiercely that it pained him. He knew the bad side of them, the worst side, and his new friends all supported and encouraged it. There are few strong enough to overcome that sort of impression."

Harry frowned, knowing where Snape was going. "You're talking about Him."

Snape nodded. "And he has more than an abusive childhood in common with you. He came here knowing nothing, yet he showed tremendous promise. Unlike you, however, he considered nothing more important than forwarding his knowledge. He lived up to his potential, becoming a prized student in every subject. He specialized in Defense Against the Dark Arts and like you learned to use spells in nontraditional ways. Like you he got into things he shouldn't have, and eventually he learned he was the Heir of Slytherin. His hatred of Muggles and pride in his own self were complete."

"And he became Voldemort."

Snape flinched but nodded. "You know of his life from then on. That's what you were told about. That's what you grew to hate so thoroughly. And what you never understood was that without Ron Weasley joining you on the train, or without Hagrid opening his mouth and prejudicing you against Slytherin house..."

Harry shook his head. "I wouldn't have become like him."

"No? If the people you met here all told you that every Muggle was like that aunt and uncle of yours? That if they had a chance, they would destroy our world?"

Harry frowned.

"You suppose the Dark Lord became as he did for the sheer desire to be evil. You assume all his followers are simply cruel people. You don't think that very rarely does someone behave cruelly for no reason. Not for spite's sake did we follow him. Most of us thought his words were true. We thought Muggles would destroy us, or use us, or burn us at the stake as they did so long ago. Even the good side doesn't find the idea ridiculous. Why do you think they have entire Ministry departments dedicated to making sure Muggles are never made aware of us?"

Harry was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. "That's just it. If you're scared of them you should just avoid them. You don't have to kill them."

Snape smirked. "You're right, of course. We should hide and conceal any evidence we exist. We should reduce ourselves to small villages and back alleys in a few cities throughout the world. We should watch our backs all the time, because we don't have the right to exist normally."

Harry frowned.

"There's no good answer to the argument, but it's one every witch and wizard is involved in. The sad truth is that the core of the Dark Lord's beliefs is the same core that runs the Ministry itself. What's different is that He is willing to kill for his beliefs."

Harry stared at his lap, brow furrowed, thinking. It made sense, in a way, but it was too simplistic. Voldemort was a deranged killer.

"Tom Riddle was human, Harry." Snape's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

_Harry_?

Harry stared at him in surprise.

"As human as any of us. He was a product of his life, the same way you are a product of yours and I of mine. We all hate something, though others tell us its wrong. But few people dared to tell him, and he became strong enough to go further with his hatred."

"And that's how you think I can beat him," Harry said slowly. "Because hate is at the root of his magic."

Snape nodded. He glanced back at Seamus for a moment. "You love your friends. You love life, or you would not take death so hard. You can love a confused boy who was taught hate, if you try. You can free that boy of the life he allowed to grow so deformed around him."

"Love him to death," Harry repeeated wryly.

Snape shrugged. "At the root of it, yes. What you did last night was out of pity. Pity and love are nowhere close to each other."

Harry sat back, leaning against the wall lost in his own thoughts.

Snape stood up after a quiet moment. "Few people care to admit it, but the Dark Lord became what he did because that capacity to hate and fear lies in every one of us. The capacity to grow past it, to accept and act positively, lies in us too. It's simply not the path he chose."

Harry shook his head, not wanting to hear more. Not wanting to think about it. "And you?"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "I chose both ways, each in turn. Your road is hard, Harry. You're to be respected for taking it. Now go that one last step. Learn to accept and understand your enemy for what he is, not what you need to think of him as to be able to love him. It's harder, but I suppose if any of us can do it, it's you."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Bloody hell. You're just full of surprises today."

Snape hesitated, then shrugged. "I'm tired and ill, and unbalanced from the return of my potion-drugged slave." His mouth twitched in something that almost looked like a smile

Harry was gobsmacked.

"Now shut up and lay there until you know how to kill him, and then go do it so I can leave here and get on with my bloody life."


	28. Sickness

"Suppose it's a nice day out today?"

Severus glared away from the table where he sat, looking through the doorway into the bedroom. He could only see Seamus's legs under covers from his angle, but he thought the glare might be felt nonetheless.

And perhaps it was. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on any trips out." The voice was quiet, but amused. "I was just wondering."

Severus turned back to his parchments, sighing. He had the bloody list memorised, but he couldn't stop staring. There had to be something there. Something he was missing. Something that might help.

He pushed away from the table and moved to the doorway, peering in to the bedroom.

Seamus looked up when he came in. Too pale. Too thin. Unhealthy. It had only beentwo dayssince his return, but this was Seamus. He was strong. He bounced back. This pallor still sitting on him was a bad sign.

Seamus grinned faintly. It didn't touch his eyes. "Don't go glaring at me."

Severus frowned. "I'm trying to work. Do you want me to send for Potter to distract you?"

"No." Seamus's false smile faded and he settled back against the pillow. "Sorry."

Severus almost winced. Too easy. He turned, but spoke quietly before leaving the doorway. "It's horrid outside. Storming and cold and miserable."

He felt Seamus's smile as he walked out. The boy knew he was lying, but what did it matter? They both knew Seamus wasn't going anywhere.

Was it the potion? Perhaps not having it for so many days made his body lose some of the tolerance for some of the metallic compounds. Severus had given him a few large doses since he came back. Was it too much? Was the boy's body chemistry unable to handle it?

Lower the doses. Change the schedule. Shock him back into health.

He made notes at his table, but the silence from the room behind him was so loud that he couldn't focus for long.

Seamus rolled over on his side to watch him when he came in again. His arm curled under his head to brace himself. "How is it coming? Is it...Harry and You Know Who? Are you helping with that?"

"No. There is little I can do there." Snape didn't go on, though. He moved up to the bed and sat lightly on the edge. He slid his palm over the boy's forehead and cheek, frowning when he felt the coolness of his skin.

Seamus looked up at him, and green eyes were trusting, if uncertain. "Is something wrong?"

"Are you cold?"

He shook his head. "Bit too warm, actually."

Snape was going to murder Malfoy with a smile on his face.

00000

Harry looked up when the door opened, nearly blinded from staring into the fire for so long. "Ron?"

"Not quite," came a low, bemused reply.

Harry sat back, recognizing the voice. "Percy. What're you doing here? More bad news?"

"No." Percy moved in, looking at the fire, holding out his hands to be warmed. "The Dark Lord is getting stronger, but you know that. One of the new Unspeakables has been murdered."

"This qualifies as _good_ news?"

Percy smiled almost unnoticeably. "No. It wasn't meant to be news at all. It's just what's happened. I wasn't sent here to tell anyone."

"So?" Harry frowned. "Why come?"

Percy's expression creased for a moment, then smoothed out again. "I had hoped to see Ron. But he and Hermione, I'm told, have gone on some sort of date."

"Yeah. Want to leave him a message?"

Percy turned to him, expression odd. "Harry, I don't have any news or any messages. I just thought I'd visit."

Harry straightened. "Fine. He's not here. Go back to the bloody Ministry where you belong."

Percy hesitated. He turned on his heel a moment later and walked towards the door.

Harry rolled his eyes, but recognized the slight burn of guilt in his gut. "Oh, for Merlin's sake," he muttered to himself. "Percy."

Percy glanced back, the fire reflecting off his glasses. "What?"

What indeed? "I was going to send for tea." He wasn't, really, but he needed something to say.

"You want me to send in a house elf on my way out?"

"No. I want to know if you want some."

Percy stared at him for a moment. "Really?"

Harry frowned, his guilt more genuine. Percy sounded truly shocked. "Come on and sit down."

Percy obeyed fast, returning to the fire and moving a small armchair closer to the flames, and to Harry.

Harry watched him, then turned back to the fire. "I'm going back tomorrow, you know. I'm giving it one more try."

"Is that safe? You've spent a lot of time unconscious lately as it is."

Harry's lips pursed. "Does it bloody matter if it's safe? I've got to try."

"Harry. That was a joke. Of a sort."

"Oh." Harry frowned and scratched at his neck. It had been quite a while since he had talked to anyone outside his small circle of friends.

Percy shifted. "Perhaps my brothers are right and I simply don't possess a true sense of humour. If that's the case, you have my apologies."

Harry almost smiled. Percy seemed as awkward as Harry felt, which made him relax. "They don't think you're that bad."

Percy glanced at him sideways for a moment.

Harry nearly blushed. "Right. Well. Some of them don't. Ron's not the most forgiving sort."

"It's easy to incur Weasley wrath."

Harry studied Percy's profile. He looked a lot like Ron. His face was a bit longer, his nose smaller. He was freckled, pale, and the glasses added shadow to his eyes. He seemed remarkably sad, Harry thought.

Percy had come to visit Ron. Ron never failed to greet him with contempt and dismiss him quickly.

How lonely must Percy have been?

He sighed. "It isn't as if you didn't earn their wrath."

Percy turned to him, his eyes bright and face hard. "Yes, well. I like to do things right."

Harry studied him, curious. "You betrayed them. Even if it was for the Order, you could have trusted them with it."

"Of course. Because the decision was entirely mine." Percy's voice was mocking.

Harry nearly bristled. "You're telling me that Albus told you to lie to them?"

"Of course he did. I loved my family. Do you imagine I wanted to earn their hatred so badly?"

"Why would he order something like that?"

"Because of my father. Because he was an enemy to Fudge, and I was no use as a spy if my relationship to him held me back. Fudge trusted me because my father openly hated me. And my father was a great many things, but a good actor was not one of them." Percy's eyes shone behind his glasses. He looked away from Harry again, stiff.

Harry opened his mouth to argue. That was ridiculous. Albus would never ask someone to leave their family. He would never make someone do anything they didn't...

But he hesitated, and for some reason thought of Snape. Another spy for the Order, and one who had had to risk more and give up any chance at all for a life of his own, because he was the best chance they had to get information on the Order. Percy, Prefect, Head Boy, perfect NEWTs, eagery accepted by the Ministry, may have been their best chance to spy on Fudge, who had already proven himself a risk to the Order.

Albus was brilliant, but if there was one thing he was guilty of it was using people. He had to, of course. He was the leader of the force against Voldemort, and that carried some nasty responsibilities. Still, it was never a nice thing to have to face.

Everyone would be so much better off once all this was over.

"Do they know? Does Ron know? That it was an order?"

Percy shrugged. "I told them, and they could have confirmed it with Dumbledore whenever they liked. I doubt they believe it. Just another excuse, I'm sure they think." The fire did odd things to his face as he leaned in to it, holding hands out again as if incapable of getting warm enough. "It doesn't matter. Even if they do believe, they'll tell me I should have lied to Albus and told them anyway. Or that I should have just left instead of fighting with my father the way I did."

"Maybe. Or maybe they'd believe it and be relieved."

Percy snorted primly. "Perhaps if I was Ron. Or Charlie, or anyone but me."

"Percy, come on."

He glanced at Harry, brown eyes very much like Ron's but altered behind the glasses. "I was never a proper Weasley. You were much better for them. You took my place when I left, in their hearts. They needed you, you needed them. You fit in a way I never could, Harry. Be happy with that. But don't pretend that the warm welcome and brotherly affection they offered you was the same thing I stepped away from, because it wasn't."

"Of course they loved you. Your mum was so heartbroken"

"Don't." Percy's voice was sharp. "Don't bring her up."

"Fine. But you know she loved you. You know they all did."

"Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that everything I ever took pride in, they laughed at. Every way I ever tried to show them I cared, they simply mocked."

"You shoved your cleverness in their faces, Percy."

"No! I was proud, yes, but when I would talk to Ron about his studies it wasn't bragging. It was helping. Trying, anyway. Ron was always so much smarter than he gave himself credit for. The twins are brilliant, prodigies in several different feilds. Ginny is just like mum - she's got more common sense than she knows what to do with. I knew they could do great things! I was trying to push them."

Harry turned back, baffled. "Percy, you weren't their teacher, you were their brother."

"I never understood how to be a brother. I thought I was being. The only thing special about me was my intelligence. I thought..." He trailed off, for a moment looking lost before shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. It didn't work, did it?"

Harry frowned, reaching out a hand to rest on Percy's arm. Understanding, he was learning, was not a good thing. It didn't lead to love. It led to a lot of confusion and pain. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

Percy looked at his hand for a moment, then shook it off abruptly and stood. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Tell Ron I came by. You can do me a favor and not let me know what his response is. Thank you, Harry, the fire was nice."

Harry watched him go, realizing after he was gone that he never had sent for tea.

0000

The scratch on the door drew Severus out of his thoughts. He blinked up, his eyes almost blurring as he saw the lists he had been staring at floating in the air in front of him for a moment before his eyes cleared.

He stood and moved to the door, cracking it open ready to send away another well-wisher before they woke Seamus up. But the round, bright eyes of an owl were all he found on the other side. He opened the door to let the creature fly in, and grimaced when he saw the green-inked, jagged writing on the parchment the bird held. He untied the scroll.

"Severus?"

He frowned, but started for the back without thought. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I was hoping maybe that was Poddy, or Hermione or someone." Seamus was sitting up, looking perhaps a bit stronger. His eyes were glassy from sleep, his hair a disheveled mess. And his gaze went right to the parchment in Snape's hand as if drawn. "Mail?"

Severus looked down at it and sighed. He didn't bother trying to hide the boy from it. He moved in and took a seat on the bed, and the waiting owl came in after him and flew to perch on the edge of the stone tub across the room

Severus had only received owls from one person since arriving. It was inevitable. Lupin had left Draco alive, so the boy wouldn't simply fade away and not try to finish what he had started.

He ignored Seamus's eyes and read the parchment rapidly. Just as he thought. A missive full of insults and derision, threats to his sense of pride because he had not held to his bargain; he had let another come and rescue his little pet.

There was something laying in the middle of the roll of parchment. A green strip of leather. There was no reference to it in the letter, and he waved his wand over it to check for magic.

A noise reached his ear, and he glanced over to see Seamus staring at the leather, a hand at his neck.

Seamus hadn't told him how Draco had kept him, but Lupin had. A collar and chains. This must have been the collar.

Snape threw the stiff leather down and stalked to his desk, writing a short, brisk reply and rolling it up.

"Severus, wait."

He stalked back to the owl.

Seamus threw the covers off, but didn't try to stand. "It doesn't mean anything. It's over."

"It's not over. He's still alive."

"So are you. I'd rather keep it that way. I don't want to risk-"

"You'd rather risk him taking you again?"

Seamus blanched. His eyes instantly filled, and his hands gripped the covers that he'd been half-heartedly trying to extricate himself from. "That's not fair. You know I'm not brave like you."

"I don't want you to be brave." Snape tied the parchment to the bird. He moved out to the front room and opened the door to let the owl fly away.

"Severus."

He turned to see Seamus standing in the doorway, weaving and pale. He moved fast, going back to him and catching him at the waist. "Back to bed, boy."

"Severus"

"Quiet." He maneuvered Seamus back under the covers and sat with him, more quick since the day before to go to the boy, to wrap arms around him and hold him close. He spoke again softly, once he was sure Seamus was relaxing and warm. "You've always managed to understand me for what I am. Don't quit now."

Seamus shook his head. "I'm too selfish. I'll die without you."

"I've left instruction-"

"If you bring up that bloody potion I'm sleeping in the dorm with Harry tonight. You know that's not what I mean." His voice was shaking, and though the threat was idle, Severus knew the tremble was very real.

"Seamus." Severus reached up, running fingers through his hair, hand stopping around the back of his neck in a possessive sort of touch.

Seamus spoke before he could continue. "I'm supposed to go first."

Severus would have smiled if the idea didn't fill him with dread. "No. You're young..."

"I'm supposed to go first," Seamus insisted. "I've known it, and it's brought me comfort. I knew you'd be there for me in the end. It makes thinking about it so much easier. The worst thing is wondering who will be there for you when it's your turn, years from now. I was so gladwe came here, because I thought I could help show all of them how wonderful you really are, and you'd have friends again. Maybe even decide to return here to teach." He wiped at his eyes, frowning when he saw tears. "I hate this. I can't get a grip on myself."

"Shh. Don't work yourself up." Severus hardly recognized his own voice when it was that soft. He tried not to think too hard about the words Seamus spoke. The knowledge that Seamus...that _anyone_...actually cared enough to have those sort of thoughts. Too strange, even when he should have perhaps grown used to it. Too jarring.

"The idea that it might be you, that Draco Malfoy of all people might see to it that you leave me..." Seamus shook his head. "Thinking about it makes me feel lost. I wouldn't be worth the air it took to keep me alive if it really happened."

Snape shook his head. "You're worth more than me, Seamus."

"No. There is nothing more than you."

Snape leaned in and kissed him, mostly to quiet him. It still made him uncomfortable to hear things like that, spoken with obvious sincerity.

It was how they had come to be lovers, or lovers more than their first meeting more precisely. Seamus had fallen in love and claimedit often, without pride or embarrassment, without Snape's snide and mocking responses driving him away.

Snape had thought him a doormat, but saw in other ways that Seamus was very much proud of himself, what he had survived and who he was. That he could still have self-respect, yet feel so much for Snape that he was willing to side-step it and bring on humiliation simply making sure Snape knew...

Snape had never been put first, not by anyone. It was a heady feeling. Powerful, at a time when he needed it. That more than enything had cemented Seamus's place there with him. He had no idea when his feelings turned to love, but by now there was no getting around it.

Seamus pulled back and looked at him reproachfully. "Now that's not fair either. You know I can't resist you, and this is important."

Severus looked down at him, smiling faintly. "It doesn't matter. It's done. I've sent my reply, and I'll meet him. Seamus, you told me yourself that love makes us do things we shouldn't."

Seamus's eyes screamed another 'no fair', but something else seemed to occur to him and he looked down, watching his own hand trace across Snape's shirt front. "_He_ thinks he loves you."

Snape blinked. "What?"

"Draco."

Surprise rolled through him, and his first reaction was to laugh. "Did he tell you that?"

"More or less. He spoke about you a lot. He made sure I knew that a great man like you would never feel anything but amusement and perhaps lust for a ridiculous mudblood like me." Seamus shrugged.

Severus would have corrected that idea, but he knew it wasn't necessary. "He's a brainless idiot like he always was."

"Dangerous, though."

He nodded. "Yes. But there's something you're not taking into account in all your fears."

Seamus met his eyes, searching and needing. "What's that?"

"I am more dangerous. Unlike him, I have something to survive for. That, Seamus, should give me just that extra edge I may need." He smiled, confident, knowing Seamus needed to see it.

Seamus relaxed, finally smiling in return. "When I think of it that way, it seems unfair that you have as easy a target as Draco. You and Harry ought to trade."

Severus chuckled. "I'm satisfied as things are. Draco is right, in that ridiculous scribble he just sent. I do have a lot of pride. I fight my own battles. But the Dark Lord? I fought that battle, every day, and I got away. I defeated him already."

"You did." Seamus's eyes glowed, and if there had just been some color in those drawn cheeks he would have looked like his old self. "And I am truly ridiculous for not remembering that you're the strongest man I have ever met, and that if you could survive what you have, Draco Malfoy will hardly be a bump on the road."

"Then you will be alright with this?"

There was a flash in Seamus's eyes. He would worry, but Snape wouldn't have expected differently. Still, his voice was steady when he answered. "Kick his arse."


	29. Indigestion

Dinner was quiet that night. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of Harry, talking around him in the way they did when they realized he didn't want to be social.

They chose the Great Hall to eat in, and Harry wasn't sure why. There was something spooky about sitting there, at one edge of one table, looking out at empty seats and hearing their voices echo. The ceiling was a starry, clear night, though, and that was a nice touch.

He caught himself gazing at those stars more than once.

It was about a half hour into their meal that the doors to the Great Hall opened. Seamus peered in, and a smile touched his face. "Poddy told us you were here."

"Hey, Seamus, come on and-" Ron's cheerful greeting died when the open door revealed a second person, looking decidedly less happy to be there. "Oh."

"Thought we'd make a sort of dysfunctional family night of it." Seamus's voice was light. Quieter than he would have been days ago, Harry thought, and he frowned. His sudden concern was confirmed when Snape's presence proved to be necessary. Seamus moved slowly in, and Harry couldn't tell how much of his weight he was supporting himself. Snape walked with his arm around the smaller man's waist, his eyes burning over at the three spectators as if in dare.

Harry swallowed, wondering again what Malfoy'd been up to with Seamus all those days. He smiled faintly, though, and nodded at Snape.

Snape nodded back before his lip curled up and he took in the other two. "I can already tell this will be one badly digested dinner."

Ron tensed and opened his mouth.

Harry put a hand on his leg under the table and squeezed. "The sooner you sit and eat the sooner you can leave," he said simply.

Seamus smiled. He wasn't at his normal levels of exuberance, but there was nothing less than cheer in his reply. "Don't worry. He's just a bit grouchy."

"How can you tell?" Ron muttered.

The front doors opened as the odd couple drew slowly close, and Harry glanced over to see Remus coming in with his mysterious werewolf companion. "Hullo, everyone."

Harry smiled, glad for the distraction. "Did the house elves make some sort of announcement about us being here?"

"No, that was me." Snape, surprisingly, answered. "Sheer desperation, I assure you."

"Of course." Remus smiled at Snape with something like affection before his eyes went to Seamus. He looked back at Snape, a question in his eyes, and Snape grimaced in reply.

A whole silent conversation. Harry stared at Remus as he and his friend moved past Snape and Seamus, careful not to offer any assistance. Harry shook his head and went back to his meal. He felt like he was missing a lot of things. But what else was new?

"Professor Lupin. Dumbledore says you're staying on here next year." Hermione spoke to fill the silence once Seamus was safely in a chair and Snape was settled in beside him.

"It seems so. I've finally broken the curse. Two years in a row for the same teacher."

"Cheers to that. You're not even incompetent. I'm amazed he even brought you back last year."

"Ron!"

Ron shrugged, grinning. "Dumbledore's usually got bad taste in Dark Arts professors."

"Any chance you'll be returning too, Professor Snape?"

All eyes went to Snape, who sat between Seamus and Remus. He glared down the table, but didn't answer as fast as Harry had expected. "Doubtful. Whatever replacement has been found appears to be doing an adequate job."

"He should be. He's one of your old students," Remus mentioned.

"Which one?" Snape asked instantly.

"Jonathan Goldstein."

Snape looked thoughtful. "Ravenclaw. Good student. Young, though."

"He does well with the students. He's been made Head of Ravenclaw already."

"And who, might I ask, is acting as Head of Slytherin?"

Remus smiled faintly.

Snape stared at him. "You're kidding."

"There are no Slytherins on staff here. I offered."

Snape glared at him, but there wasn't true malice in it. Harry was amazed that he could tell that. "A Gryffindor werewolf, the head of my house. Bloody hell, perhaps I'd better talk to Albus after all."

Harry saw Seamus brighten at that. "You miss it. You know you do."

"Hardly." Snape's snort was sharp. "Some things about it, perhaps." He looked around, quick to change the subject. Those dark eyes landed on Harry himself. "Potter. Out of morbid curiosity, what are your plans once the Dark Lord is destroyed?"

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. He felt his cheeks heating up. "Well. I'm not exactly sure. I don't want to go on with the aurors."

To his surprise, Snape nodded his approval. "Brainless Ministry footsoldiers."

"Excuse me?" Ron's head whipped towards Snape.

Harry spoke up fast. "It's not that. We do good work. But I'm tired of fighting all the time. I want to know what a normal, uneventful life is like. "

"Get bored stiff in a week," Ron predicted darkly, his eyes still on Snape.

Harry shrugged. "Probably. I think the Ministry'd take me back, if that's the case."

Snape muttered something under his breath. Harry glanced over to see a strange hardness on Snape's face, and a worried look on Seamus's as he looked at his companion.

He decided not to ask. "Anyway. I thought I might travel a little. See places besides London and Hogwarts. I've never been anywhere, really. Not without being on the hunt the entire time, anyway."

"What?" Ron turned back to him. "Not only are you deserting us at work, you're going to leave London too?"

"Ron." Hermione's voice was soft. "It's his decision."

"Don't _Ron_ me, Hermione! Bloody hell! I'm not allowed to have a bloody opinion about things! This is Harry we're talking about! We've been together forever, and he's going to leave! I know it's his sodding decision, but that doesn't mean I have to like it!"

"Ron"

"Excuse me..." The door opened yet again, and Harry tried to feel amused at Percy Weasley looking in, uncertainty on his face.

"Oh...Merlin's wrinkled white bloody _balls_." Ron stood up, pushing back from the table. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Harry stood up, surprised. "Ron, come on."

Ron glared at him. "Leave me alone, Harry. Let me get used to the feeling." He turned and stormed away from the table. He passed Percy in the doorway without even a look.

Percy watched him go, that odd look in his eyes that he'd had sitting at the fire with Harry.

"Percy...come on in." Remus spoke quietly. "Have you had dinner?"

"Well. No. But I was just..." Percy hesitated, glancing at Harry, before moving to the table to the seat Ron had left.

Harry hesitated, but sat back down slowly. He turned to Hermione, seeing the shocked, confused look on her face. He reached for her arm and squeezed gently, but couldn't help feeling the same way. He knew Ron was upset, but he hadn't expected outright hostility.

"Is everyone done throwing tantrums?" came Snape's deceptively mild voice.

Harry glared at him, in no mood to handle his charm tonight. "You always threw the biggest. You tell us."

Snape raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched up.

Harry shook his head and looked away, towards the front doors to the Great Hall.

"So, Harry. Tomorrow's the big day, is it?"

Harry turned to Dom, frowning. "Yes. It is." He glanced at Remus, though, and didn't voice his next words.

To his surprise, someone did it for him. "Have someone you're keeping up to date on events, do you?" Snape, sounding just as mild as before but somehow...poisonous.

Dom and Remus both looked sharply at Snape. "What's that again, mate?"

Snape looked past them at Harry, eyebrows raised.

Harry frowned and nodded. There really wasn't anyone else it could be.

"It seems to me," Snape went on after getting Harry's confirmation, "that there are those outside these walls with a great deal of knowledge about what happens inside."

"Severus, hold on just a moment."

"No, Remus. I can appreciate your position, but let's face facts. He was one of too few who could have led Death Eaters to the Dark Lord's cell. He fooled Albus, and he fooled you, but that doesn't change the facts. If it wasn't him it was someone else at this table, or the child who just ran out in a huff. Which would you suspect?"

"The Ministry is still considering him their top suspect," Percy added quickly. He dropped his eyes when Dom's gaze swung to him.

Remus glanced around, but looked back at Snape without answering, and without looking at the man sitting beside him. "I don't appreciate this."

"Nor did I appreciate having my property destroyed, or losing something dear to me." Snape's arm shifted under the table, and Harry thought he must be touching Seamus somewhere. Holding his hand. It barely surprised him at this point. "Someone fed Malfoy information. Someone told him about Seamus, and the only ones who know he is still alive are in this room, or in the Order."

Remus shook his head.

Harry spoke softly, barely raising his voice. "Poddy."

The house elf appeared, as timely as ever. "Harry Potter sir! What Poddy is doing for you?"

"Tell me. There are house elves taking care of each of us, aren't there?" Harry hadn't seen any in the dorms, but Hermione had mentioned resenting the presence in her and Ron's rooms every day, slaving away. And Poddy seemed to personally tend to Snape and Seamus.

"Of course, sir. Albus Dumbledore likes his guests to be cared for."

"Wait just a bloody minute, mate."

Harry didn't look back at Dom. "Who is taking care of him?" He motioned back towards the werewolf.

Poddy snapped a finger instantly, and another elf appeared. Small and in a tattered shirt that meant he belonged to no families, or Hogwarts itself, Harry had seen him before. He had been the one to tell them about Dom appearing in the school, he thought. "This is being Renny, sir."

There was the scratch of a heavy wooden chair being pushed back. "Right. This is bloody ridiculous."

"Dom." That was Remus. Harry looked over. His godfather looked as calm as ever. "Let them play this out. They will whether we protest or not."

Dom gaped at him, looking astonished, but held up his hands and glared silently at Harry.

Harry turned to the second house elf. "Alright. Renny,do you mind if Iask you a couple of questions?"

Renny nodded, staring around at the table full of humans with huge round eyes.

Percy pushed his chair back. "Perhaps I should..."

"What? Don't want to wait before running back to report my guilt?" Dom's voice was hard.

"Stay, Percy." Remus's voice was quiet. "One way or the other, someone from the Ministry should hear this."

Harry ignored them all. "Renny?"

Poddy nudged Renny on the arm.

"Renny is not minding!" His voice came out a higher squeak than even Winky's had been. His bony fingers wrung his shirt.

"You're taking care of Dom, right?"

A nod of that large head threatened to send him tumbling forward. "Yes, sir! Renny is taking very good care of him."

"Has he asked your help in contacting anyone outside these walls?"

Renny blinked eyes that seemed somehow to jut out even more. "No, Harry Potter. He is not asking anything like that."

Dom smirked faintly, hands dropping.

Renny's wide eyes went to him, then back.

Harry frowned. Renny wasn't tied to anyone, so he wouldn't lie. But he was so sure...how else would Dom get messages out? He wouldn't dare take the trip to the owlery, and Remus would have noticed if he had sent any communications out.

He frowned across the table at Snape.

Snape stared at the house elf, eyes narrowed. "He hasn't been speaking to anyone over the floo? He hasn't been in communication with one single other person?"

"Only people who is sitting right here," Renny answered, half-stammering. His fingers were threatening to shred the shirt.

Snape sat up suddenly, bringing out his wand.

Renny squeaked in alarm and cowered back, but Poddy stopped him with a wide hand on his back. "They is not harming house elves, Renny."

Renny stared as if hypnotised as Snape raised his wand.

"_Finite incantatum,"_ Snape directed at the elf. Or, more specifically...

To the elf's tattered shirt.

The fabric shifted, and Renny's hands flew from it in horror. Before their eyes the shirt morphed and transformed quickly into a tea towel.

Snape stood up, moving around the table and crouching in front of the elf. "Which family do you serve?"

Renny shook his head, skin turning a mottled pink. "Renny is not telling, sir!"

Poddy stared at the other elf, shocked. "Renny is lying to us! To Albus Dumbledore, who is always taking us in and giving us work. Renny is a _bad_ house elf!"

"Renny is not telling! Renny is talking only to those with the Mark! Renny is being ordered!"

Snape sneered, triumphant, and pushed his sleeve up. He revealed his damaged but still recognizable Mark to the elf. "I asked you a question!"

Renny swallowed audibly. He looked from the Mark to Snape's face, and his shoulders slumped. "Renny is serving the Malfoys, sir. Renny is their new house elf since they is losing their last one. Renny is a good house elf, not like Dobby. Renny does as he's told."

At the name Malfoy, Snape straightened. He glowered down at the elf, who had to crane his face straight up to see him. "And he has been sending and receiving messages, hasn't he? Young Master Malfoy."

Renny nodded. "Renny is sorry to be lying before. Renny is doing what he is ordered."

"Wait a-"

Snape cut off Dom with a slice of his hand. "And where did you get those messages you sent him? Who told you about us?"

Renny hesitated.

"Speak!" Snape roared.

Harry's skin pricked. He stared at the house elf, and at Poddy looking so horrified behind him.

Renny's hand came up, pointing with a waver down the table.

But not at Dom.

Percy stood up instantly, so pale his freckles stood out sharply.

Harry shook his head instantly. "No."

Renny nodded, his ears flattening against his head. "Master Malfoy says for Renny to be keeping eyes open and to find Percy Weasley when he is coming to the school. They is talking about many things, sir. I is taking the messages."

"He's lying." Percy spoke faintly.

Renny shook his head violently. "Master Malfoy says to always be speaking truth to Marked ones."

Snape turned to Percy then. He looked caught off guard himself, but after a moment a wry smirk touched his face. "He set you up, Weasley. He knew we would find out sooner or later. That I would find out."

"It's a lie," came the soft, strangely dull protest.

"No it isn't. You just didn't think ahead. You're still a blood traitor and you always will be, no matter how much you may despise your family. You can never make up for your blood, Percy. That should have been obvious."

"If Percy says it's not true..." Hermione was white-faced, and Harry knew suddenly she was thinking of Ron. His heart sank. Bloody hell, Ron would be devestated.

Percy sank down in his chair and fell quiet.

"No!" Hermione faced him, and the auror in her took over where the confused girl was failing. "It'll be looked into, Percy. If there's no truth to it, you won't be"

"Don't bother," came the clipped answer. "Professor Snape is right. I'm sure Malfoy will be more than happy to hand over letters in my writing."

"Merlin, Percy." The auror faded again, and Hermione just stared. "Why?"

Percy's eyes, for some reason, went to Snape. "I was promised none of my family would be hurt if I cooperated."

Snape shook his head in disgust.

"Then they _made_ you-"

"No. That was just one of my conditions." Percy looked back at her. "Leave it. Just take me in, or I will go myself. It's not as if I have much of a life to lose."

"But...why?"

Percy shrugged. "Because I was tired of being alone."

Hermione's face twisted at that, and anger appeared in her eyes. She stood up, and her wand was in her hand in an instant. "Right. Then let's go."

Percy moved without protest or hesitation. His eyes caught on Snape as Hermione led him around the table, and he frowned. "I knew you could handle them. I didn't realise they would go after Seamus. You have my apologies."

"As worthless as they are," Snape replied acidly.

Percy smiled tightly. "Indeed."

The door shut behind them. "Should someone..."

Harry glanced at Remus and shook his head. "Hermione can more than handle him." He sat back down slowly. To have sat and talked with Percy, tried to understand him. It was a blow, and more because he never had a clue.

His eyes fell on Remus and a now seated but stiff-backed Dom. He sighed. There was one thing he was wrong about, anyway. He met Remus's eyes.

Remus just shook his head with a faint smile. He understood. Of course he did. He would have wanted to know. And it did seem suspicious.

When Harry looked back at Dom, the werewolf's eyes were on him. He glared back. "Anyone ever tell you lot that you're paranoid?"

Harry blinked. He nearly laughed.

Remus did, a soft chuckle. He leaned in to Dom and put a hand possessively on his leg. "You'll get used to it."

"Bloody hell, Remus. Maybe. Soon as it's not me they're directing it at."

"Which will be as soon as death and mayhem doesn't follow you whereever you go," Snape snapped. "Now what are we going to do about this creature?" His eyes lit on Renny.

There was an odd sounding hiss in response, and guttural words spoken in a completely foreign language.

Renny cowered, his eyes shutting and his entire body slumping.

Harry traced those odd words back to Poddy, who was directing a gaze and a finger at Renny.

"Is not to be worrying, Mr. Snape," Poddy said, sounding oddly raspy. "The house elves is taking care of him. We is keeping you safe."

Snape straightened at that, looking satisfied. "Then tomorrow goes as planned. They should still not be expecting it. Potter, you will do it right this time."

Harry nodded, determined. Worry and doubtwere bad. Malfoy making his presence known was bad. Voldemort's strength returning, worse. But with traitors appearing from within their own circle, Harry knew things would only get worse and worse.

Voldemort had to die. This had to bloody well end.

He drew in a breath, looking away as Poddy marched towards the motionless Renny. He looked past Dom, who was glowering his distrust of them but with something like humour in his eyes as Remus continued to pacify him. Two empty chairs: Ron out there somewhere angry. Hermione, on her way to have Percy imprisoned. Seamus, who was too quiet, too still, and obviously not well after his time with Malfoy. Snape, who had to deal with knowing his lover was going to die, who had to wrestle with his past and try to make some sort of future. Remus, who had lost so many people, who had been so pale and sick with the thought, however brief, that his new friend might have betrayed him.

And Harry himself. He could feel sorry for himself, fighting all his life though he was hardly built for it. Trying to be a good person, trying to put an end to this nightmare the world around him had been suffering since before he was born.

Tomorrow. It had to end tomorrow. These were good people, suffering in their own ways worse and worse. They were growing frayed, tired. They deserved peace. All of them.

He had the power to give it to them. He just had to get it right.

"Oy. Remus. Give it a rest. It's not like I'm not used to it. Anyway, it's a sodding good thing you did suspect me, since that elf was the one taking care of me. Nice little circumstance, that."

Harry glanced back. Dom was grinning now at Remus, who smiled back. Harry saw their arms angling together under the table and out of his sight, and he smiled. If Dom wasn't a bad guy, maybe he would be be alright for Remus. Maybe Remus deserved that as well as peace.

He thought about Hermione, there by herself, and Seamus and Snape. Together but for how long?

Love. Strongest emotion there was, apparently. The source for all the greatest magic. The ties that bound all of the around that table, in odd and unique ways. Tomorrow he would feel it for Tom Riddle. Maybe the day after tomorrow he could find it for himself.


	30. Morning

Harry moved down the stairs into the Gryffindor common room, looking out at the empty couches and armchairs. The table where he and Ron had played their first game of chess.

He smiled faintly when he saw the person sitting at that very table, staring into space. "Ron." His voice was careful. He had no idea how Ron was feeling, particularly after the news about Percy.

Ron blinked and looked at him. He flashed one of his quickfire not-really-happy smiles. "Morning, mate."

Harry moved down off the stairs and went to the table, taking a seat on the other side. "How's...everything?"

Ron shrugged. "Gin's coming home. She's pretty upset. Bill's going to meet us at the Burrow." He smiled faintly. "First time we've all been together for a while. I'm scared to see what Fred and George have done to the house."

Harry smiled back uncertainly. "Listen..."

"No thanks." Ron cut him off, but smiled crookedly a moment later. "Really, Harry. We'll deal with it. I want to see them before I go spouting off any words about that shitehead I might regret later."

Harry nodded. He tried not to feel guilty for being relieved that Ron didn't want to rail against Percy to him. "So. You and Hermione alright? You upset her a bit last night, I think."

"I dunno yet. She...er. She slept on the couch last night. Didn't make _me_, that's maybe a good sign."

Harry smiled. "Sounds like it. You know she loves you."

Another tight shrug. "Seems like it most of the time. Then it seems like she's trying to raise me. I can't decide if she wants a husband or a student. And then I think..."

"That it's just you. And if she was with someone a bit smarter she wouldn't be this way."

Ron looked hurt for a moment, but nodded honestly.

"Ron, I'm not saying it because it's true. I just...had a feeling you felt that way. Especially after last night. I mean, she does cut you off a lot, but I never thought you minded. I guess...well. Hermione is Hermione. She teaches everyone. She corrects Snape when he talks, and argues points with Remus. It doesn't matter who it is, she's always the same."

"Not with you," Ron said softly, rising from his chair and moving away. He paced towards the fireplace, his long body looking wilted.

Harry blinked in surprise, both from the statement and how much it seemed to hurt Ron to say. He hesitated, thinking about it. Ron was jealous of him in some way, which was nothing new really. He had never shaken Ron from it, and he had tried.

He stood and moved in behind Ron. "Not very often, no."

"Not ever, Harry. Except some admonitions to do our homework when we were twelve years old. Never since then."

Harry frowned, unused to seeing Ron so defeated. His friend had always been insecure, but he hid it behind boasts and jokes. He was strong, even if no one noticed. Dealing with overacheiving brothers who left him such massive footsteps to follow, competing for attention in his large family, it all added to it. And to make matters worse his best friends were a genius Muggleborn witch and Harry let's-pile-the-fate-of-the-wizarding-world-on-his-shoulders Potter. He got lost when he was with them.

But not lost _to_ them. Never. Which was why this surprised Harry. He could study Ron's profile and his slumped shoulders and guess his friend's fear, understanding though he never thought about it before. "You think Hermione settled for you."

Ron shrugged too intently to be casual. "Not such a crazy thought. You're smarter than me. You know when to shut up, which I guess I don't. You're Harry Potter."

"Right. I'm not you. And you're the one she wanted. You're the only one she ever went after, Ron. She never liked me."

"Maybe she did. Maybe she hid it."

"Ron." Harry tugged Ron's arm, turning him around. "Are you telling me you think Hermione's been lying to you all these years?"

Ron looked stark. "Not lying. Fooling herself. Maybe it was okay with her to be with me because we were always with you anyway. But if you..._when_ you leave, it will just be me and her. And maybe she'll get tired of correcting me without having you there to soften it. Maybe..."

"Ron!" A familiar admonition, from a familiar voice. But a new tone.

They turned, and Hermione stood in the portrait hole, her hand at her mouth.

Ron sagged. "Bloody hell."

"I just...I came to see if Harry was ready, and..." She moved in, meeting Harry's eyes bleakly for a moment before going to Ron.

Harry moved away back to the table, but he didn't sit. He hesitated, listening and trying not to at the same time.

"Ron, why didn't you ever...how could you think...?"

"I dunno. Just being stupid again, I guess." His voice was full of false bravado. Trying to make a joke but failing because he thought the words were true.

There was silence. Harry glanced over uncontrollably and saw the pale tinge to Hermione's skin. "I never gave you a reason to feel otherwise, did I?"

Ron spoke faster then, quick to defend her as he always was. "Course you did. Lots of times things are great."

"And lots of times I make you feel like you're stupid. Ron..." She clasped one of his hands in her smaller ones. "I'm the idiot."

"No. It's me. Harry was right, you're the same with everyone. I knew that from the day we met you. I shouldn't expect you to change just for me."

"You have a right to expect-" Hermione's voice rose then cut off, and she glanced towards Harry.

He smiled faintly, glad this was in the open. "I need to go see Remus," he said quietly, moving towards the open portrait hole.

They were quiet as he left.

He walked the corridors, taking a moment to wish them luck. They really were good for each other. They could be an unstoppable force, and frequently were. But this had been building for a while. In a way, Harry was glad Ron had finally spoken to him, because it was too much his habit to think and dwell and never mention out loud until the pressure became too great and his temper exploded.

They would be alright. Now that she knew, she could stop hurting him. And now that he knew he could speak up, he could stop resenting it.

He smiled to himself faintly. He had been lying about needing to see Remus, but he found himself making the trip to Remus's quarters, and knocked at the door without hesitation when he got there.

Remus took a long moment to answer. He was in a dressing gown and slippers, and his hair was a mess. He smiled at Harry and opened the door to let him in. "I was about to send for breakfast, and you need to eat." He didn't wait for an answer, just moved in towards his floo to contact the kitchen.

Harry grinned fondly and didn't say a word. He looked around, seeing the open door towards the bedroom. It took only a mild amount of straining to hear the sounds of movement beyond the door, and he was relieved when the discovery only caused a faint twinge in his gut.

Sure enough Dom came out of the room a moment later, stark naked, hair in messy spikes. "Rem...oh. Harry." He grinned sheepishly. "Right. Naked."

Harry laughed, and the twinge went away. "Naked."

"Right." Dom moved back into the bedroom. "Oi! You're not here to arrest me again, are you?"

He went towards the door without looking. "No, just a friendly visit."

"Good. In that case, I give you permission to check out my skinny arse if you want."

Remus looked back, straightening from the floo, eyebrows practically at his hairline.

Harry laughed again. Maybe he'd learn to like Dom faster than he thought. "I don't need a possessive werewolf on my case, thanks."

Remus grinned. "Too right."

Dom came out a minute later, unashamedly shirtless but wearing some wrinkled slacks. He was all skin and bone, and Harry saw deep scars around one wrist, the one without the ID number tattooed on. More scars seemed to peek from his waistband.

Harry debated looking away, but gave in to curiosity. "You look like you've seen a few fights?"

Dom glanced down at himself and scratched at his stomach. "Me? Gentle as a ruddy kitten. Just that one night a month, and not all of us had constant supplies of wolfsbane being shoved down our throats."

Remus went to him, touched his arm as he past and headed to the bedroom. "Just going to get dressed, Harry. I'll be right out."

Harry nodded and faced Dom. "You gave yourself those scars?" He sat at the long, weathered sofa that didn't match a single other piece of Remus's secondhand furniture.

"Sort of. After I first got bit, and they let me out of hospital, I fell into the trap. No one wanted to give me a job. Of course my old place, this pub in Diagon, had me sacked when they found out what happened. Didn't have anyone to go to, so I had to get creative, make sure I could trap myself some way I couldn't get free from." He rubbed at the scarred wrist. "Not too many gentle solutions, though. Just some rusty chains and an abandoned basement in a closed-down pub near my old flat. Same old story."

"Same old story?" Harry repeated in surprise.

Dom flashed a tight grin. "Don't think we're all as lucky as Remus, do you? You hear about packs of werewolves in the woods? We mostly can't make it in the cities. Those werewolves are gypsies. Con artist wanderers, mostly. Almost went that way myself after a few months of chains and getting sacked too many times. I thought why be respectable if they're going to make it hard? But a friend from hospital, Arthur Weasley, guess you knew him? Anyway, he passed me on the street one day, and told me come to the Ministry for a job."

"And he helped you become an Unspeakable?" Harry's eyebrows were high. "Isn't that a big leap, from outcast of society to elite Ministry security worker?"

Dom laughed, sitting back against the couch casually. "Don't overestimate my job. I wasn't one of them, I was a bloody tour guide. Spent a few weeks learning the corridors, and that was my whole job. Didn't know what was happening in the rooms, just led people in and out. Even Unspeakables weren't allowed to know what other Unspeakables were up to. All very hush-hush rubbish."

Harry nodded.

Dom grinned. "Anyway, don't think they realized when they gave me the job that I'd be one of a handful of people who knew where His Darkness himself was spending his nights. So of course they turned on me when the attacks started."

"Why you?"

"Werewolf."

"Oh." Harry's smile faded. He knew things with werewolves were bad, but that was hard to remember sometimes. Sure, Remus was older than his years, and owned secondhand things, but he was doing alright. He had plenty of friends to look out for him.

He didn't think about others. He never knew about the others. They had no real voices to speak with, really. Not in the Ministry, not to the _Prophet_.

A lot of Dom was beginning to explain itself. Harry smiled faintly at the realisation. Understanding, that's what it went back to. Snape, now Dom, next Voldemort. That was some powerful stuff.

"Anyway. That's pretty much done now. Once You Know Who is dead, hopefully Dumbledore will speak up for me and make sure I don't stay a fugitive. After that, I guess it's back to square one."

"Not entirely," Remus said suddenly as he came out of the bedroom, neatly dressed in slacks and a jumper.

Dom looked back, and they shared a smile. "No. Not entirely."

Breakfast arrived in the form of a couple of house elves, who quickly arranged trays and plates before whisking off again. Without Dobby or Poddy there everything was effecient and silent. Dobby was still on his vacation, and Poddy was probably with Seamus and Snape.

When the three men were alone again, Remus poured them tea and turned more serious eyes to Harry. "When are you going?"

He shrugged. "After breakfast. Or lunch. It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Think it's going to work?" Dom asked, sipping the tea and making a face. "Bloody Welshman," he directed under his breath at Remus.

Remus laughed. "Coffee's bad for you."

Harry shrugged. "It had better work. I'm all out of options and we're almost out of time. I don't think it will be as hard as I once imagined. I had a talk with Snape that made things a little clearer."

"That's the first time I think I've ever seen you say his name without sneering," Remus said with a smile.

Harry shrugged. "I'm willing to admit sometimes I don't know everything about everyone. Anyway, I figure if we're on speaking terms after I kill Voldemort, I'll be able to taunt him about being in my debt for freeing him once and for all."

"That may not be the safest approach," Remus replied dryly.

Harry smiled and drank his tea.

"If you want me to, I'll come with you."

He nodded. "I know. But it's alright. Ron and Hermione will be there. Because if I leave without telling them again they're likely to go homicidal. Albus is staying behind. There's something he's keeping his eye on, but I don't know what."

Remus's brow furrowed. "Then I'll see you when you return. Try not to be unconscious this time. My poor heart and all."

"Right." Harry grinned but raised his cup in toast. "Here's to consciousness."

"Here's to you, mate," Dom agreed, downing his tea and shaking it off as if it were a particularly bad shot of firewhiskey.

When Harry left them a half hour later, they were still arguing the merits of tea versus coffee. And Remus looked truly happy to be doing it.

888

Severus muttered under his breath and rolled onto his side.

He was cold.

The oddness of that struck him. Seamus was a furnace, and the one thing Severus never had to worry about was getting too cold when the boy was with him.

He opened his eyes, turning his head to make sure Seamus was still there.

He was. His eyes were already open, already on Severus. His mouth was open, his eyes huge and glimmering.

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Seamus's expression stopped him. "What's wrong?"

Seamus reached out, grabbing Severus's arm too tightly. He shook his head, drawing in a horrid sounding breath through his mouth, and forcing it out again with just as much effort. "I can't brea..." was all he could manage.

Snape jerked up and scrambled for his wand.


	31. Mourning

Harry was focused. Sharp. All he had to do was go get Ron and Hermione, floo over to the Ministry, and then it was just him and Voldemort, and one way or another he was going to end it.

He felt good. Seeing Remus talking and laughing, at ease and content, was a really nice thing to see. Dom was strange, no doubt about it, but then Remus was normal enough for two people. He was stable, comforting. Tea and smiles and quiet words. Maybe he needed someone to shake things up a bit.

Harry grinned to himself, giving them a week.

He just had to hope that Hermione and Ron had patched things up at least enough to keep him company to the Ministry. He really didn't have many doubts they would have, but those two weren't always easy to predict.

He moved around the corner towards Gryffindor, where he'd left his two best mates, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Remus, somehow coming from the tower. "Where did you...?"

"I flooed from my room," Remus said fast. "I thought you would be there."

Harry froze, seeing the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

8888

The hospital wing always felt too large when school was out. Severus had been there more than once in summers, of course - just because school was out of session didn't mean he wasn't working, and sometimes his duties with the Dark Lord had required some medical attention after.

He lay there those times, on the rare occasion that Pomfrey could force him to stay bedridden, and hated how big the place was. Needlessly high ceilings, long corridors and rows of empty cots. It made a person feel small, which wasn't very conducive to healing.

This was probably the first time he had ever sat in the darkened wing and not noticed the hollow spaces.

Those hollow spaces meant that when the doors opened and people moved in, the echoes of their feet reached his ears with plenty of warning.

He drew himself straight up in his chair and emptied his face of expression as he looked away from the bed for the first time since arriving.

Remus looked drawn. He met Severus's gaze with a frown, but looked past him to the boy laying still. "How is he?"

Severus blew out a breath. "Pomfrey doesn't know enough about Muggle diseases. He was having trouble breathing. He..." He didn't bother to go on. Remus wouldn't understand that the boy just didn't _feel_ right, that his little energetic twitches while sleeping were missing, and his heartbeat was off.

Remus reached down and lay a hand on Seamus's arm for a moment.

Severus looked past him. The other werewolf was there, but staying back near the door. Harry was there as well, and when Severus looked over Harry's eyes were locked on him.

Severus wasn't sure what normal people were expected to do in this situation. Was he supposed to offer some false smile and tell them all how strong Seamus was? He didn't have the energy for dishonesty.

Seamus shifted in the cot.

Severus felt the change more than he sensed the movement. He looked away from Potter instantly, leaning in over the cot.

The troublesome matter of how to behave settled itself then, when he suddenly couldn't even remember there were other people there. "Seamus."

Slivers of green appeared between eyelids tipped with golden lashes. Seamus murmured and his face tilted towards Severus.

He moved his chair as close as possible, taking the boy's cool hand in his. "She gave you a draught. You may be groggy, but it's normal."

Seamus's mouth tilted in a faded version of his familiar amused smile.

It didn't make Severus relax to see it. "You're alright. Just wake up slowly."

More green appeared. The whisper of a smile stayed in place. "Not alright," came the hushed answer, and the hand in Severus's squeezed weakly.

Severus's body seemed to stutter, his heart and lungs shutting down for one quick instant and then starting up again. "I suppose you would know better than Pomfrey and I," he retorted, trying to manage some kind of annoyed tone.

Seamus nodded, eyes shutting then opening again. The green of them was sharp and glassy. Wrong. "Severus."

He was shaking his head then, without really knowing why. "Don't."

Seamus gave a real smile then, eyes clearer with every passing moment. He held Severus's hand tightly. "Do you know," he said, voice steady and soft. "I think you would do well teaching here again."

Severus shook his head, his head bowing as some uncalled-for grief fought to take control of him.

Seamus went on, stubborn as ever. "Things are so different now from when you left. Remus is fond of you, and Professor McGonagall always liked you." He nodded to himself. "You would have friends here, if you'd just let yourself. You would be alright."

"Stop." Severus refused to look at him, or acknowledge what he was doing. He kept his voice calm and cross, as if he didn't realise. "I have no need of a job. I make enough through the journal work and I have always had my savings."

"Then do it because you want to, not because you need to."

Severus snorted.

"You're too gifted to give yourtalent to journals who won't even accept the work under your real name."

"So I should give it to belligerent children who treat it as nothing but a burden?"

Seamus's gaze was steady by then. The genial lightness of his voice was fading into something more serious. "Maybe if you're here, if your name gets out there, they would have no choice but to listen. The journals, I mean. You could force them to accept you."

"I can't force anyone to accept me. I hardly have the patience or the temperment to try."

"You'd have help this time. Harry and Remus and the others."

"Are you trying to tell me you wish to stay here?" The words were supposed to be light, but Severus heard his own voice shaking and knew he couldn't pretend not to understand anymore.

Seamus met his eyes, a burning sadness on his face. "Yes," he said, and the word scratched out as if it hurt to say. "Severus, of course I wish to stay here."

"Then don't-" Severus shut his mouth with a snap. But he couldn't stop the sentiment from forcing its way out a moment later. "Don't you bloody well tell me goodbye, then."

And it was out there. What this was. Too soon. No warning. Or too much warning. Severus glared because he had no idea how else to react. He had only just recently come to terms with the idea of love. How could he be expected to be able to just let it go?

Seamus drew in a sharp breath, and his hand gripped Severus's with feeble energy. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up."

"No."

Severus bowed his head again, his eyes shutting.

"Please. Severus, I'm sorry, but I have to tell you..." His words choked, and his breathing was wrong.

Severus looked up and could tell from the way Seamus held his jaw that he was in pain. "Relax. If you excite yourself..."

Seamus sobbed out a small breath. "Then listen to me."

Severus shook his head. Seamus was stubborn. If he had something to say, he would never let himself die before he said it. All Severus had to do was never listen to him.

But he didn't stop Seamus when he spoke again. "Promise me you'll stay here. Or you'll go out and...and do something else. Something you want just for yourself." Seamus squeezed his hand tightly enough to make him look up. "You deserve to be happy."

Severus frowned, his head shaking almost reflexively.

"You saved my life, you know. You made what should have been a few horrible last years the greatest I could have ever had. You've redeemed yourself for whatever you think you still need to suffer for. _Please,_ Severus."

"No. You foolish child." Severus tried to find some heat somewhere, but any warmth inside him just came from more sadness. "I was being selfish."

Seamus laughed at that, barely loud enough to hear. "No."

"I just wanted you for mine. That's selfish."

Seamus reached out with the hand that wasn't tight in Severus's grip. The light whisp of fingertips on Severus's cheek was so familiar a feeling it almost made him choke on his next breath.

"No," the boy said again. "You took me in because you're a good man. You helped me recover from my old life, you cared for me though my burdens were the last things you needed. I came to love you so fast, and so hard. You remember."

"I remember." How fast the boy had said it, and how cynical he felt. Gratitude, he thought. Or insanity. Or just mistaking the feeling of being tended to for the feeling of being really cared for, and trying to respond accordingly. Or saying what he thought he had to to keep from being thrown out and back into that old life.

"You thought I wasn't sincere. You thought I would give up."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't," he said softly, toying with the hairs at the nape of Severus's neck. "And you gave in to me. You realized I wasn't going away."

Severus didn't recognize his voice anymore. "It was the best thing I ever did," he got out, his eyes burning in an odd, distantly familiar way.

"I loved you regardless. I would have stayed no matter how you treated me." He smiled suddenly, like a small burst of sunlight between thick clouds. "You didn't have to love me in return to hold on to me. It wasn't selfishness. It just was what it was." Spots of color appeared in his pale cheeks. An illusion of health, Severus knew, but his hopes let themselves be raised and he nodded to encourage the boy to continue.

Seamus just smiled. "You didn't say anything, but I knew. I felt it, the day it happened. You didn't laugh when I said the words. 'I love you.' You didn't pull away. You didn't even get tense. And I knew you were mine. From that day on, Severus...I was happy."

Severus drew in a breath through his mouth, lips pressing together to hold back whatever storm was brewing under his skin.

Seamus seemed aware. Of course he was aware. He always was, somehow.

His smile tilted, then faded. His voice rasped with the grating simplicity of pure honesty. "Happy isn't the right word, because there's not a word for what I felt. Like I belonged somewhere again, like someone wanted me. Like these amazing, painful and wonderful feelings I had for you might be shared."

_They are_, Severus wanted to say. Instead he bent in his chair, burying his face against Seamus's chest and just trying to breathe.

A hand appeared in his hair, cool and weak.

"You did that for me, Severus. You saved me. You took a sad, sick thing like me and gave me the best years of my life. No evil man could do that."

Severus's breath choked against Seamus. His eyes screwed tighter shut, but the burning behind his lids wouldn't go away.

"I gave myself to you, and you didn't hurt me. You didn't use me. You gave yourself in return. Didn't you?"

Severus couldn't answer. The wrench in his chest was somehow worse than even the Dark Lord had ever managed to make him feel.

Seamus tugged at his hair gently until Severus lifted his head. "Didn't you?"

The warm strange feeling of wetness on his cheeks barely registered. Severus met his eyes and nodded.

Seamus leaned up with a gasp of effort and his lips managed to brush Severus's temple. "I'm giving you back now."

"No."

"You'll be alright."

_"No._"

"You won't lock yourself away somewhere alone the way you had before. Promise me, Severus. Please." The colour in his face had long since disappeared, and his voice was fading.

Severus shook his head, hand fisting the sheet over Seamus's chest. He dropped his forehead to rest on the boy's shoulder. "I promise," he said. "I don't know how to be alone anymore," he said, and his shoulders shook with a tremor that went all the way through him. And then another, and another.

"You'll be alright. Promise me. You have to be alright." There was the sound of tears in Seamus's voice. "I don't want to go. I don't want..." His arms grasped at Severus, folding around him with a fraction of his usual energy. "Please be alright. It's not fair. I'm so sorry. I had you all the rest of my life but what did you get? Severus, _please._"

Something about the last word made Severus draw in a breath, seizing control over his shivering body. He looked up, and Seamus's eyes were closed. A split second of panic, but they opened again, wet and green.

Severus spoke, though he knew it was goodbye. "I'll be alright."

Seamus sobbed and his eyes shut. He grasped at Severus. "Thank you."

It didn't matter if it was a lie or not, which was good because Severus had no idea himself what the words were. He had said them for only one reason. He said them to mean only one thing. Just to express something to the boy in front of him, even if what he wanted to express went beyond words.

He watched Seamus's face closely, memorizing features he already knew inside and out. He memorized the feeling of arms around him, of a caring touch. Of someone being there. Of Seamus, all bright eyes and quick smiles, warm body and gentle hands and unconditional understanding and affection.

Love. Bloody hell.

He felt the arms around him loosen, and knew the boy was unconscious. He knew there wouldn't be another reviving. Goodbye, after all, was goodbye.

He shut his eyes and bowed his head. "I love you," he said, quietly. It was the first time those words had ever passed his lips. Too late, but not too late, because Seamus had always known somehow without him saying it.

The charm around his neck pulsed with some new sensation he hadn't felt before. And then it hung useless around his neck, a round scrap of metal.

The charm was broken.

8888

Hermione and Ron arrived in time to see him go. She turned away when Snape broke down. Ron held on to her as she cried.

Harry stood beside them, arms folded over his chest as if he was chilled. And he was, he realised absently.

He turned away from Snape; the mandeserved some kind of privacy. He looked to Remus, uncertain.

Remus stood as if debating, obviously wanting to be there for a man he considered a friend now, but knowing he very well probably wasn't welcome. He must have felt Harry's gaze, because he looked over after a moment.

Harry spoke before he realised he was going to. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to make things alright today."

Remus went to him instantly and Harry found himself being pulled into a hug. He frowned against Remus's chest.

He was too late. Too late for Seamus, at least. He should have had this done before Malfoy ever had a chance to come back into the picture.

Remus pulled back and held Harry's shoulders, looking at him steadily. "Do you want to wait?"

Harry shook his head. And give someone else time to strike?

"Then come on. You have a job to do, and..." Remus looked away, back towards the bed, then back at Harry. "Come on."

Harry gratefully let him lead the way out.


	32. Endings

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! Enjoy through the end, and I hope you like it._

The same man who had showed Harry through the halls of the Department of Mysteries his last time there was at the front doors when they arrived at the Ministry. Harry, Ron and Hermione moved through the telephone booth and into the main lobby of the building, and the Unspeakable immediately broke away from the front desk to meet them.

"Mr. Potter, I'm glad you're here. There's been a minor problem."

Of course, Harry thought to himself. Not sarcastic, though. Just incredibly tired. Today had already been too hard. "What?"

"He's started breaking the door down."

"_What?"_

The Unspeakable shrugged, looking almost sheepish. "We're not entire sure how, because the guards never hear anything, But splinters have appeared on the floor, and the door itself seems to be...disintegrating somehow, bit by bit."

"Brilliant. Who had the bright idea to put him in a room with a wooden door anyway?" Ron's voice was flatter than normal.

Hermione didn't bother to silence him.

"We'd better hurry, then, I suppose."

The Unspeakable led the way through the halls, down the last corridor that led to Voldemort's home. Quiet, as he'd been last time. And last time it had been welcome. This time it just gave Harry more chances to hear Hermione's quiet sniffles. It gave him more time to feel the heaviness in his legs as he moved.

He sighed as they went through the illusory wall and to the door. Harry could see what their guide had been talking about. There were fractures in the door, thin lines that snaked up. The two inevitable guards nodded at them, and one nearly grinned when he saw Harry.

"About bloody time, then. Can't lie and say this duty doesn't scare me bollucks off."

"Levitson!" The Unspeakable's voice was sharp. "That will be all. The two of you are to go through the wall and wait."

The man nodded, sheepish, and they moved instantly. Their guide followed, giving one last look back at Harry and his friends.

Hermione turned to Harry and straightened up noticeably. "Alright. It's up to you now. What would you like us to do?"

Harry sighed. "Just stay out here. And think positive thoughts."

She smiled faintly.

Ron came up and grasped Harry's shoulder. "Good luck, mate," he said lowly. His face was pale under his freckles.

Hermione nodded silently. "Remember what you've learned."

Harry reached for her hand, and Ron's arm, and squeezed lightly. There was a strange element of calm to him, perhaps because of the scene they had all walked away from back at Hogwarts. There was no dwelling on the consequences this time. He would succeed, and he would get back to the school to suffer through the pain of burying an old friend. That was his sort of fate.

He smiled at Hermione until she managed a small smile back, and nudged Ron with his elbow. "You have the ball?"

Ron nodded and tugged his spiked ball out of his pocket carefully. "I was half hoping it'd turn my slacks invisible and cause a scene," he said with a nervous grin.

Harry laughed, and Hermione released his hand to smack Ron's shoulder lightly. "We can experiment with that later. For now, be serious."

Ron nodded, then did a double take.

She blushed but grinned. "Go on, Harry. Fulfill this idiotic prophecy so we can get on with our lives."

"Amen," he said, soft but firm, and he turned to the door. With a well-practiced lob he set the spikes of the ball into the wall, and they all watched in silent fascination as the white went to transparent.

Voldemort was staring right at him.

Hermione gasped in surprise, but Harry looked back.

He was sitting up now and glaring at the wall, somehow right at him, with malevolence in his eyes.

There was nothing of a human in those eyes. They were snake-red, thin, slitted. Evil. Set against leathery white skin, hairless, more reptile than man.

What would the slight differences be if it was Harry rather than Tom Riddle who had grown to look that way? Would the eyes be green? Would stubborn, uncooperative hair have remained clinging to that skull?

Tom Riddle believed in the evil of Muggles. Harry could see that. Past words, past stories, they led to that surprisingly easy conclusion. As Snape said, very few people in the world became evil because they believed it was evil. Tom Riddle had simply taken an extreme opinion too far. An opinion so easily believed by others that he built a crowd of supporters. Were some of those, the earlier Death Eaters, like Snape? Pushed into it because they felt they didn't belong anywhere else? Or had some gone through tragedies because of Muggles? Had some been found out? Had some been put to death, or had ancestors put to death?

The days of Muggles burning witches were over, but they were not free to live their lives. Were some wizards fed up with hiding and skulking when the world just as rightfully belonged to them as their Muggle counterparts?

Had some been abused, as Harry - and Tom - were? Had some been humiliated and estranged and harmed because they were freaks to the Muggles around them?

It was easier now to understand Tom Riddle, and that was the frightening thing. Easy to understand, and easy to believe that it might have been him.

When had Tom realized that other wizards considered him an enemy? When had he made the choice to run away, to study immortality, and to become a lord in his time rather than a fighter just looking out for himself and wizards like him?

Would Harry have been equally obsessive? He might without the support he received now. Would he have become a Tom Riddle for the good side, dedicated to the slaughter of evil wizards? Maybe he would have started believing the hype about his own power, and maybe for the good of the world he would have followed Tom's footsteps and tried to make himself immortal, so he could always fight the good fight.

And yes, maybe that was ridiculous. But Harry had friends and family now who kept him level and down to earth. If instead his friends encouraged him in more grand ideas would he be different?

The possibility was there, and wasn't so small that he could just dismiss it.

Was a degree of humility and a reluctance to fight the only thing that seperated him from Tom?

He sighed, so focused on the man staring back at him through a wall he couldn't see through that Ron and Hermione faded from his thoughts.He went to the wall and raised a hand to it, feeling the cool stone though he couldn't see it.

Tom Riddle was still there somewhere. The scared and angry boy who was abused and thrown out and who wanted revenge was still there. Piled on top of him were warped ideas and scars made by bigger magic than he could handle.

Lord Voldemort held Tom Riddle prisoner.

He breathed in, remembering what it was like to be helpless, to be a puppet moving with Voldemort in his head, controlling his actions and invading his mind.

Was Tom in there somewhere, feeling the same?

Like being locked in a cupboard under the stairs. Like living an entire life watching people come and go and wondering when someone would look at him and realize that something wasn't right, that no one should be prisoner like that.

Waiting to be released.

He smiled then, softly, to himself. Because it was something he could do for that troubled boy who had no one show him the right way. He could show him that his way wasn't the only way. That who he had become wasn't right, and someone _did_ see.

He wasn't killing Tom out of pity, though that was strong inside him. He was there to kill him because he was understood the boy he used to be. He was that boy himself. And he knew Tom Riddle wanted to be set free.

He moved towards the door, pulling his wand out. Voldemort's malevolent eyes didn't follow. They stayed staring at the same spot in the wall.

He wasn't as all powerful as all that, then. Walls still could hold him, at least in this state.

He wasn't strong enough for Harry and Tom both, and Harry knew that Tom would be in there somewhere, helping him when he struck.

He opened the door slowly, and red eyes darted to him again.

He had felt Voldemort's invasion for a few quick minutes, and had wanted nothing more than to die to end the pain. Poor Tom had dealt with it for too many years. It was time to let him go, to end the torment.

Voldemort started to rise, and someone cried out something behind Harry's back.

Harry met those eyes and spoke to the boy inside. "It's time, Tom."

Red eyes narrowed in fury, then the slit of a mouth creased in a smirk.

Harry didn't give Voldemort time to speak. He had had too much time as it was. He raised his wand and spoke the curse quietly, firmly, and kindly. "_Avada kedavra._"

The world around him went green. And then, black.

Malfoy Manor. How long had it been since he had set foot there?

This was a small room, mostly bare save for a heavy wooden table and straight-backed chairs. The door was closed, and locked no doubt.

One of the hidden meeting rooms. Lucius Malfoy and his family before him had been clever with their wards. Apparation inside the house itself was impossible, save for small pockets like these rooms. That way meetings could be held and people could come and go without being seen by anyone, and without leaving any trace by floo.

It was also a prison for anyone who apparated in outside an appointed time. The locks couldn't be broken, and the room itself could be sealed up airtight when it was wished to be so. Wards were in place outside the scheduled times that made apparation in easy but apparation back out impossible.

No doubt more than one vanished Order member had tried to be clever and met their end in this room.

Draco Malfoy knew he would come, becauswe he knew Snape's pride and honour forced it. Just the same way, Snape knew he would not be slowly suffocated. Malfoy was too arrogant, and he obviously had other things on his mind than Snape's death.

He sat at the table and waited.

His arm gave a low, deep throb. He wondered where Potter was at that moment. At the Ministry yet? Still pacing Gryffindor's common rooms and saying prayers to whatever god the boy might believe in?

He felt sure he wasn't with the Dark Lord yet. He would know. Either way the curse went, he would know. He had taken a large dose of his potion just before apparating, the bitterness of it still in his mouth. But he would feel it.

The door opened after a while. Snape had predicted the waiting time - Malfoy no doubt thought it would build up some sort of fear or something. Idiot child.

"Well, well." That voice made hairs on his neck stand up, but only because it was so like Lucius. "Professor."

He raised his eyebrows and looked over as Malfoy came in.

He looked much like a cross between the Draco from his classes and Lucius. His hair was growing out, and he had it worn down to his shoulders, loose. He was dressed in rich robes, and a wand was in his hand.

He looked smug, his silver eyes alight with triumph. "I expect it's really you this time."

Snape stayed seated, simply looking the boy over.

"In fact, I'm willing to bet that last time it wasn't entirely your decision to send another in your place. Who was it, by the way? Not Dumbledore, but one of his footsoldiers?"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Do you prefer being a slave to that old man? What does he have you doing? Babysitting Potter? Drawing his baths and bringing his meals?"

"Do you know nothing of me, boy?" Snape's voice was calm. He always could manage that, no matter what sort of torments went on around him.

Malfoy smirked at that. "Less than I had once thought." He looked pleased to have gotten a response, and moved towards the table. "And how is Finnigan? Quite healed, I hope? Is he wearing the collar I returned to him? He did enjoy it."

Snape drew in a breath. Clenched fingers into fists, then released them slowly. He blinked his eyes shut, and the moment his eyelids drew down, green eyes foggy with approaching death looked back at him in the darkness.

He opened his eyes again. He stayed calm, using the heat that fired in his belly to simply strengthen his will. Malfoy was trying to get a reaction, any reaction, so of course that was the last thing Snape was willing to give him.

No matter what.

"I'm disappointed in you, Malfoy. Requiring a chain and collar to hold on to one wandless mudblood. I thought I had taught you better."

"You're trying to make me angry."

"No." Any other time he would have smirked. He _would_ have been trying to cause anger.

But not now.

"No. I'm simply putting you into perspective."

Draco straightened. "I am not weak. It would be a mistake to think of me as weak, Severus. Particularly being where you are right now."

Snape's eyebrows shot up as the boy said he first name. "You've got your father's ego. Have you earned it?"

Malfoy moved in. "Stand up."

He quirked his eyebrow a bit higher.

"Severus, you would do well to listen to me." Draco's voice was clipped, but there was fire in his eyes. Power. Some sort of lust, Snape saw suddenly.

His eyes widened in realization. Seamus hadn't been crazy after all. This boy wanted to dominate him. Not to kill him, or get revenge. Simple domination. "Did Lucius tell you that I followed orders well?" He pitched his voice low. He could use this.

Draco's eyes went a little rounder, but his expression stayed smooth. "My father told me many interesting things about you once you had run away and turned your backs on us."

Yes. He could imagine Lucius's reaction to his betrayal. Had they ever realised he had been a traitor all along? Did the Dark Lord ever really know how many of his plans had been ruined by Severus Snape?

Doubtful. The one downfall of these people was that they were so sure that they were right, and powerful, and magnetizing, that no one would ever turn their backs. Even after he had left Malfoy had probably convinced himself that Snape had just been a coward, not a traitor.

He almost asked exactly what sort of things Lucius had bothered to say. But he could guess. Lucius had been a rather large part of Snape's Death Eater life, and had been from his first day at Hogwarts. He had been less of an influence than Snape had let him think, but an influence nonetheless.

"Tell me, Draco." His voice stayed low and cool. A purr from a cat with poisoned claws. "Did you bring me here to kill me?"

The question seemed to surprise Draco. His hand lowered. "Are you going to beg for your life?" he asked a moment later, sneering.

Snape just looked back at him. A lesson learned young - no matter what the situation, always behave as if it was under your control. It unnerved enemies and inspired confidence in allies.

"Your father was in love with his own voice as well. Answer the question."

Draco's sneer warped in genuine anger. "I am the one with the wand here, Snape. I would shut up if I were you."

"You would do a lot of stupid things if you were me," Snape answered. The pauses were enough indication - Draco didn't want to kill him. What he did want was a mystery. But he had a hint, and he decided to use it. "Seamus Finnigan reports that you are in love with me." He didn't even trip over the name.

Years of practise at playacting. Years of control. It took every one of those years to pull it off.

It was worth it. Draco paled, then flushed dark red, an unflattering color against his cream-blond hair. "You must want to die."

"If you didn't bring me here to kill me, then what am I doing here? Are you rescuing me, perhaps? Saving me from myself, or from Dumbledore's wicked influences?"

"Don't be so sure you're not going to die tonight." Draco raised his wand.

Snape shook his head, a flash of genuine remorse going through him. He had wanted to save Malfoy. He had wanted to save all his children from his fate, and no one would ever understand how he felt losing them one by one to the prejudices of the other houses in school, watching them fall together and split apart from everyone else, and watching as that was so easily turned to the Dark Lord's favour.

Draco was genuinely sharp, or had been once. Whatever power and mania had made him turn on Snape and think he could somehow best him, it had dulled the sharpness of his mind.

And for what? For the Dark Lord, who would never treat him any better than a slave. Because Draco Malfoy wanted to be a king among men. Because the boy believed that that was what his father had been, rather than simply a bitter and conceited man with money enough to buy himself influence.

"It's too late for you," he said out loud, the realisation painful. He couldn't save Draco. He had left Hogwarts and fallen completely under his father's spell. And the worst thing was, Snape had been there himself once.

He didn't like to admit defeat. He never had. But he had lost this time. He lost Malfoy.

His arm pulsed suddenly, and he raised an arm to it instinctively.

Draco paled and looked down at his arm at the same time.

Snape saw. And knew. Something was happening with the Dark Lord. Albus had said every Death Eater was affected.

He spoke almost sadly. For him this would be freedom. For Malfoy, nothing but defeat. "He'll be dead in a moment."

"You lie."

"You felt the last two times, when he was weakened."

His white skin went grey and sickly, and Draco grabbed his arm with his free hand. Snape wondered then how much it hurt for those Death Eaters not taking potions to dull the affects.

"Who? Potter?"

Snape nodded.

Draco sneered, but it was thin and wavering. "He isn't capable."

"Draco."

Silver eyes, wide and almost boyish like they had been when he was eleven, met his.

"I'm sorry," Snape said, quiet. And he was. He better than anyone knew that people were very much products of their surroundings, and Draco Malfoy had never really had much chance to become anything but his father. Snape had blamed himself for not being able to get through to the boy in school, but he knew in his heart it wouldn't have made any difference. Draco was what he was.

Everything that happened because of that...Snape had to shoulder some of the blame for that. For...everything.

The quiet apology seemed to do more to scare Malfoy than the pain in his arm. He shook his head, taking a step back. "It's impossible."

"It's nothing you can run away from," Snape answered quietly.

A last burst of confidence steeled the boy. "We'll see about that."

But they wouldn't. Snape felt a searing flash through his arm, the Dark Lord's anger filtering through the overdose of potion he had taken.

Draco hit his knees under the effects.

But this was different. There was genuine fear in the feeling, and Snape shut his eyes, casting Malfoy's wasted life out of his thoughts and focusing on Potter. He prayed then, to any gods who would listen despite his disbelief in them all, and willed that Harry get this right. He wanted freedom.

Even if death was the only way.

His own life was already over. It ended in a hospital bed perhaps one or two hours ago. Everything he had was gone. Everything he wanted, gone.

He smiled to himself. If there was some sort of afterworld, he knew the next thing he would see would be Ireland green eyes.

No.

_"You'll be alright. Promise me. You have to be alright." _

A shock of warmth seemed to melt over his arm and spread up his body. An odd feeling, compassion, sympathy...forgiveness...overtook him where there had only been pain before.

Harry was fulfilling his Prophecy.

He fell to his knees, and it seemed outside his head someone was screaming.

_"Promise me."_

Snape didn't want to live. It was too tiring. No one would be able to call him a coward now. Perhaps some might even remember him as some sort of hero. He could die.

His body wanted to shut down. His mind agreed.

_"Severus, please."_

But his heart beat Seamus's words, and Seamus's eyes. And the change in this spell, the compassion in it, the strength, the love. It nearly brought Seamus to life in him again.

Snape shut his eyes, but not with surrender.

_"I'll be alright."_

Then there was nothing.


	33. Beginnings

There was something odd.

It wasn't the gray fog that Harry had to fight his way out of - that was becoming alarmingly common these days. It wasn't the heaviness in his limbs. It wasn't the sound of voices around him, or the soft sound of tears, though that wasn't the most positive sign.

Harry couldn't put a finger on what it was. Then again, he was donating most of his energy to reaching consciousness.

His eyes opened to look up at the fuzzy and familiar ceiling of the hospital wing of Hogwarts. He blinked and squinted and frowned. Was it a bad sign that he was there?

His memory was sharp, unlike the last few times he had woken up this way. He knew what he had done, and though he wasn't sure how it went, he wasn't as quick to jump to despair as he had been in past times.

He looked around, and grabbed for his glasses on the table beside his bed.

"Harry!"

He slid the lenses on and blinked around, finally spotting Hermione and Ron. He sat up, trying to read their faces. But there was nothing either jubilant or disheartened about them. Just relieved.

He swallowed, looking from one to the other. "What happened?"

"You did it," Ron said simply.

Hermione blinked and moisture coated her eyes. "He's dead. For good."

He hesitated. A feeling like sadness came, then slowly went. Tom Riddle was free. That was something he could always feel proud of.

"Did you hear what we said, mate? You did it! " Ron sat down at his side, knocking a hand into his leg hard.

Harry sighed. "Thank Merlin for that, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Ron gaped at him, then turned to Hermione helplessly.

She laughed. "It's alright. Give him a few minutes. You should hear what they're saying about you, Harry. The papers and Fudge and everyone."

Harry's mouth curved up.

"Too right, mate. The Prophet's calling for you to be made Minister, which we all know is ridiculous, but you may want to go talk to Fudge and explain to him how little you want his job."

Harry chuckled at that, rolling his shoulders. "Where's Remus? And Dumbledore?"

"The Order is meeting upstairs." Hermione's smile faded at that. "There were a couple of complications, it turns out."

"What kind of complications?"

"The Death Eaters...most of them, I mean..."

He frowned. "What?"

"They're dead," Ron said.

Harry studied them. "Dead?"

"It's got nothing to do with what you did!" Hermione was quick to cut in.

Ron frowned at her. "Well, except that they all died when You Know Who did."

"What are you two talking about?" Harry's relaxed calmness was starting to fade a bit.

"Nothing!" Hermione shot Ron a sharp look. "Just get your strength up and we can go up and talk to Albus ourselves."

"Every Death Eater died the moment Voldemort died. Is that what you're telling me?"

Ron nodded. Hermione frowned at Harry.

He drew in a breath, blinking away from them. He was entirely unsure about how he should feel right then.

"Interesting, really. A couple of people dropped dead that no one even suspected were Death Eaters." Ron scooted closer and touched Harry's arm. "No one blames you, mate. I mean, no one credits you either. Everyone just thinks they all died of despair when their master got killed."

Harry sat bolt upright, horror bursting inside his chest. "Snape?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged grim looks.

"Oh, god..." Snape shouldn't have died. Snape was a good Person. Snape had helped him. Snape had gone through enough, and he--

"He's over there," Ron said finally, his voice low.

Harry looked where Ron nodded. In a bed across the way was a still and silent body. "Oh..." Harry's next breath stuttered. "I didn't mean..."

"Harry. It's not your fault." Ron squeezed his arm.

"Of course it's my fault!"

"It's their fault for taking the Marks in the first place. Bloody idiots."

"You don't understand!" Harry sat up and glared at Ron, trying not to dissolve into grief. "Snape was different."

"I know Snape's different, that's not the bloody point. Snape's not even dead, is he? The rest of them, though, they weren't good. For anything."

"What?"

"Well, they weren't! Those Lestranges, and Parkinson, and the Malfoys. What were they ever--"

Hermione put a hand on Ron's arm to stop him. "Snape isn't dead, Harry. They found him when the aurors invaded Malfoy Manor. Draco Malfoy was dead, but Snape...survived. Somehow."

Harry stood up, pushing Ron's hand away and weaving for a moment before he got his strength back. He ignored Hermione's indrawn breath and 'Harry!' and made his shaky way to the bed.

His old professor, the bane of his existence for seven years, seemed too small lying there. Too helpless. Too still.

Harry stared at Snape until he saw the faint movement of breath puffing up his chest. Air rushed from him in relief.

"How is he?" Harry asked.

"Albus says he's a miracle." Hermione said. So she didn't know.

"And so he is," came a new voice, drawing Harry's attention. He straightened when he saw Albus coming in, followed quickly by Remus and Minerva McGonagall. Remus grinned to see him standing there, and Minerva wiped her eyes with the biggest smile Harry had ever seen on her face, and moved past all of them to grab Harry in a hug that caught him completely off guard.

"Thank Merlin for you, Harry," she said as she held him. "Thank Merlin."

Harry cleared his throat, patting her back awkwardly and smiling when she let him go. "You taught me everything I know, Professor," he said.

She laughed. "I wish I could take some kind of credit."

Remus joined them, grabbing Harry in another tight hug. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. Just relieved."

He laughed. "I'll bet you are. That's one tiny load off your shoulders."

"Miniscule. Right." Harry pulled back and grinned at his godfather.

Remus smiled back, looking younger than even the year Harry had first met him. "I'm so proud of you."

Harry's mouth stretched uncomfortably wide, and he looked away before the full affect of those words could hit him. He turned back to the bed they stood over. "Sir, what about Snape?"

Dumbledore moved past them to the bed, laying a paternal hand against Snape's forehead for a moment. "Severus is something of an enigma, I'm afraid."

"What else is new?" Ron said from behind Harry.

Albus nodded. "Indeed. Harry, you'll find this out soon enough, so I feel it only right to tell you myself..."

"All the Death Eaters died. Harry nodded.

Albus glanced at Ron and Hermione. "Indeed," he said again. "And I'd like to discuss that with you later, in private."

Harry nodded.

"The effect seemed to have been passed through the Mark, as even those who hadn't served him in years were affected. Most of those were in Azkaban, of course. And then Severus here. I am not entirely sure why he was not killed, to be honest. If I were to give my opinion, it was a mixture of things. The potion he took, for one."

"What potion?" Ron asked.

"Voldemort tortured him." It was Remus who answered, his eyes on Snape. "Through the Mark. That's why he left here, I've learned. He couldn't work. He couldn't even live. Until he found the potions that could control it, he couldn't think of anything else."

Harry frowned. "I didn't know that."

"Unfortunately, he told none of us." Albus sighed. "His potion to battle the effects was perfected over time, and it was meant to dull any affects from the Mark. It was, apparently, affective."

"You said a mixture of things?"

Albus reached down and tugged at a chain, bringing up a small round pendant from under the sheet covering Snape. Two pendants now, Harry saw with a pang in his stomach. He had seen them before. Snape must have taken Seamus's from his body.

"Merlin only knows where Severus got his hands on these. I can imagine they were passed down his family line. They are immensely powerful, and have the potential to be dangerous. Snape wore one, and I believe Seamus wore the other."

Harry nodded without thinking.

Albus went on. "These are very much illegal, but of course that wouldn't have stopped Severus. The necklaces are charmed very heavily to link two wearers. A sort of empathy can be shared. If great focus is put out, sometimes thoughts can be shared between wearers. Severus, I believe wove a sort of protective charm into Seamus's necklace once the boy was returned to us. And when he took the chain to wear it himself, the protection passed back to him. It aided, I have no doubt."

Hermione smiled, her eyes bright. "Then Seamus saved him, in a manner of speaking. I think he'd be happy to know that."

"Indeed." Albus drew in a breath and let the chains rest on the sheet. "And the third factor, I believe, was Severus himself. His will to live is very great, and he is not an easy man to break."

"No." Seamus smiled faintly.

Albus looked to Severus. "Unfortunately, all I can tell you is that he did survive. He is in a rest so deep that I can't even see into his mind. Whether it is temporary or permanent..." He shook his head, the twinkle in his eye fading. "I'm afraid I simply don't know."

Harry's scar faded.

It happened over a matter of days, so slowly that hardly anyone noticed. One day Remus simply stared at him longer than usual, brushed his hair aside, and smiled so broadly his face looked lopsided. "Well."

Harry couldn't say he wasn't glad. As a battle scar it was something to be proud of, perhaps, but for practical purposes all it was good for was drawing a crowd. He didn't look very different without it, but when he was out in Diagon Alley he found that as long as he kept his hair pulled back and his forehead showing, one quick glance insured people that he was no one very special at all. Harry Potter was the boy with the scar. Without it, he was just another person.

The relief he felt only inflated his already elevated moods.

He came to figure out the thing that had seemed so odd to him when he awoke in the hospital wing of Hogwarts after killing Voldemort. It took days of cracking his spine and rolling his shoulders and walking oddly for him to realise. He never told anyone about it, because it seemed too balmy to mention out loud to anyone, but...

A weight on his shoulders and chest, one that he had never felt because it had always been there, was gone. He was lighter, not only in mood but physically. He breathed easier. He walked taller. He smiled more.

Ron noticed it first, and Remus. But he couldn't explain it, so he let them credit it to simple relief over Voldemort being gone. He thought it was more, though.

Voldemort had been connected to him through his scar, though he had only used that link to invade his dreams from time to time. It had joined them. He felt pain when Voldemort was angry, and triumph when he was happy. But even in their resting moments he had carried the weight of Voldemort with him.

And now it was gone.

Seamus was buried in a small plot near a small cottage in Ireland. Albus insisted it was his home, though Snape couldn't be asked. It was a beautiful place, and Harry had felt right about leaving Seamus there. The only real sorrow, besides that felt for Seamus himself, was that Snape wasn't there to see it.

But it was nice, and he felt better when it was done. He felt like Seamus was happy there, and he knew he would go back someday to pay respects.

Harry stayed at Hogwarts for a while, ignoring the _Prophet_ and counting the days until the term would start and his haven would be invaded. He visited Snape, who was in his rooms in the dungeon being taken care of by a tireless Poddy. He heard himself talking to the unconscious form now and then. Aimless talk, whenever there wasn't anyone else visiting. Things Snape would no doubt mock him for chattering on about.

He spent time with Ron and Hermione - they stayed, leaving the school only to work.

Aurors had a lighter load, simply tracking down sympathisers of Voldemort who had never been Marked. And doing other duties that they'd let slide in the war. Police work of a simpler kind.

Dung Fletcher was arrested twice.

Remus was there as well, preparing for the start of the new term. Dom, whose oddness Harry had rapidly gotten used to, remained a more faithful companion to him than Harry had feared. He had even begun talking about filling in the vacant groundskeeper position that Hagrid's death had left.

He was an odd man, and a blunt and unlearned man to be with Remus, but as the days went on his gazes grew fonder and more protective. Remus smiled and laughed easier, and blushed less.

Harry was happy for his godfather. Sirius Black was a hard memory to leave behind, but it was past time for Remus to find happiness in the world around him.

Ron and Hermione had finally set a date for their wedding, and Harry made a joke of refusing to be the best man out of a humble need to not steal their spotlight. Ron literally had to sit on him and shout before Harry admitted it was a joke.

Dobby returned from his overlong and much enjoyed vacation. It turned out he had rented his services out to a member of the Wizengamut's family, so it was a working holiday. No one was surprised to hear it. Dobby of course laid claim to Harry's care, letting Poddy devoted his time to Snape. The helpful house elf was in the quarters every time Harry paid Snape a visit. He seemed distraught that his magic couldn't end the charm holding Severus in the sleep he was trapped in.

Apparently the day Snape's eyes had opened Poddy's cheer could be heard through the entire castle. Harry had missed it, being outside on the pitch.

He still wanted to travel. He had more than enough money left in his vault, and the world was big and open and waiting for him. He thought he'd go right away, but as the end of summer rolled around he was too glad to have a pitch to fly around, too curious about Remus and his gypsy werewolf lover, too interested in getting to know a non-adversarial Severus Snape, too glad to be there when his best friends became permanently joined, and altogether too busy enjoying the feeling of a family of his own to really think of leaving.

Love, he had come to learn, might very well be the strongest emotion in existence. It was a mixed blessing, tying him where he was and making him face things he'd thought were better left behind. But he thought most of the time that whatever came of it, he was going to enjoy every second of it.

But school started and lives went on, and he packed his bags and decided on a first destination.

He really only asked Snape to come with him in order to see the expression on the man's face. But according to everyone there to witness it, his own expression when Snape actually said yes was far more amusing.


End file.
